Thou Art to Me a Delicious Torment
by littlegreenfish
Summary: Killian has sailed all seven seas, and has nowhere found something so deadly as the Queen of Hearts. Jefferson wakes up in cold sweats, mad with fright from nightmares of red lips and losing his head. After Cora's demise, what will become of the Captain and the Hatter? Starts Cora/Hook; endgame Mad Hook. Lots of dom!Cora.
1. Introduction

"We failed." Cora's lips pursed, but even so no light faded from her eyes. There was no time for that: a machine so well oiled never stopped moving for long.

Sighing, Hook glanced at his companion, pride and pompousness in both his stance and his tone.

"Really, Cora. After all this time, why do you still doubt me?" He asked, holding up the shriveled, dead bean that he'd taken from the giant as a prize.

"That bean's petrified, it's useless." Cora nearly sneered, her nose in the air and a light trace of contempt in her voice.

"But these waters have regenerative properties," Hook paused for a moment, seeing the wheels in Cora's mind stop turning for a split second as they were both struck with perfect clarity. "perhaps it's time to do some gardening."

He tossed his prize into the water, and it began to move. Next to him, Cora's red lips curled into a deadly smile, and he felt his insides tighten. No one ran from the Queen of Hearts: and for all of his carelessness, Hook had never thought to try.

xxx

Killian Jones had sailed the seas: all seven of them. He considered himself an excellent navigator. Cora, for her part, had obliged his ego and allowed him plot their route. Both of them needed to reach Storybrooke. That compulsion was something that they would never doubt in one another.

"How long until our arrival?" She asked, parasol over her shoulder as she opened the door to his cabin without asking.

"A matter of hours." He answered confidently, looking up and meeting her gaze. "Assuming that the two worlds truly are parallel."

"And if they aren't?" Her lips drew together in a frown, and Hook's drew apart in a grin.

"Why bother with such questions? Snow White's portal worked, and so will this one." He was confident as always.

"I hope that you're right, _Captain_." Head held high, she approached him and grabbed his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. Whether or not her words dripped with sugar or poison, he could never tell. From the corner of his eye, he saw her set her parasol down on the cot where he slept. Why did she need both hands? "For your sake."

Before meeting Cora, Hook had never even considered that someone so slight could be so mighty. Peter Pan and his boys had been clever and courageous, but they had also been innocent and ignorant. Cora was more dangerous than any sea serpent, any reptile at all, that Hook had ever encountered.

"I wouldn't dare displease you, _Your Majesty_." Hook's words didn't drip with anything: they floated above responsibility and consequence. The look in Cora's eyes could mean anything, and he knew better than to dare try and interpret it. Such a thing could quite literally cost him his head, or at least his heart.

"A few hours, you say?" She didn't pause to let him repeat himself. They both knew what he'd said. "Then we have plenty of time."

"Time? For what?" He asked, and her grip tightened on his chin, fingernails starting to dig in.

"Don't be rude." She released him from her physical grip, but in the next moment he felt her magic take hold of him, and he was forced against the wall of his own sleeping quarters. "If you took the time to listen to anyone but yourself, perhaps you'd learn something."

Briefly he tried to move, but found it nearly impossible. Only his face was capable of movement. Even the smallest joints in his fingers wouldn't move an inch. For a moment he wondered why she still had magic, but quickly realized that they were not yet in Storybrooke. They were still between two different worlds: a place where, he was sure, anything could happen.

"So what, pray tell, does the Queen of Hearts have on her mind?" He asked, tense despite his usual nonchalant disposition. He knew that she wouldn't kill him: they were mutual beneficiaries, and killing was too easy. She would either do something much better, or much worse.

"Snow White and her family mean little to me. My daughter is what's important." Cora drawled, her eyes narrowed as she moved a hand to Hook's chest, pressing it over his heart. "But I'm not a fool, I respect them. I recognize every threat that they pose, few and small as they are."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Hook asked, his voice still smooth as satin as he looked down at the woman who had promised him vengeance.

"You've spent too much time in Neverland, Killian." Gaze caught between motherly and toxic, she moved her hand up and traced his jawline with the tip of her index finger. "You've forgotten exactly what those boys lost."

"I'm afraid that I don't follow." Again, he tried to at least move his wrists. For a second time, he failed.

"They lost more than themselves." She paused, and Hook realized that he'd been holding his breath. "They lost their mothers." She whispered, the tip of her finger against his bottom lip as he struggled not to breathe out against her skin. "And that, as I'm sure my daughter could tell you, is a terrible thing to lose."

"And what does that have to do with my current…vertical status, as it were?" Hook asked, his gaze threatening to plunge downward with Cora's neckline. His current position would have been delightful, had he been able to look down at a less dangerous woman. He didn't dare look at her face either, so he instead focused for the open door across from him, seeing blue sky and gentle waves surrounding the ship.

"I heard what you said to Snow White's daughter. What was it? Something about her _horizontal_ status, and your own urge to breach her with your sword, willing or not?"

"You can't possible be angry with me for a joke." Cora had to be going on a different tangent: his remarks to Swan had been in the heat of battle, and to an enemy. Cora had no reason to cross swords with him over _that_.

"I'm disappointed in you, Killian. I'm disappointed in you for your blatant disrespect toward the sex who bore you. We bravely put aside our own unwillingness for man's precious _sword_ for our own greater good. That's a sacrifice that both my daughter and I have had to make, and yet you make light of it. You treat it as something trivial. Do you have any idea the power that comes with womanhood? The risk? Do you know nothing of women?"

"You can't be serious." Nearly laughing, Hook looked down into Cora's eyes and felt his pulse nearly stop. Cora was, quite clearly, very serious. And yet, how could she be? Hadn't it been Cora herself who had pushed Regina into an unwilling marriage, into an unwilling bed?

"I see the way that you treat women, Killian. You assume that they want you, that their bodies crave you, and why shouldn't you? You are, I will admit, what most would call handsome."

Her fingers moved across his skin, her touch dangerously delicate.

"…and what would _you_ call me, Cora?" He breathed out, realizing that more parts of his body were mobile than he thought if the stirring in his breaches were any indication.

"_Common."_ She breathed out. Not for the first time since they'd met, Hook felt a rare tremor in his constitution. "…for too long, you've wasted your days chasing lost boys and our dear, dear crocodile, no different from any other man who has loved and lost."

"Again," Hook was speaking more slowly now. He knew how easy it would be to anger Cora further. "I must ask you what that has to do with _this_." He gave a fruitless attempt at movement.

"If you're right, and you wouldn't dare be wrong, we have time before reaching Storybrooke." Cora murmured, motherly again as she splayed her fingers against his own neckline, hooking them in the collar of his jacket. "…and I think it would serve you well to learn the sheath is just as effective as the sword, if you're willing."

"For you, Cora?" Again, Hook felt what lay between his legs stir hopefully. "How could I say no?"


	2. Chapter 1

"For you, Cora?" Again, Hook felt what lay between his legs stir hopefully. "How could I say no?"

Killian wasn't unintelligent: far from it. He was exceptionally clever, and he knew it. He knew that lust was on Cora's mind. It had been before; and it would be again.

He had tasted her before. After the curse had broken, more than magic had been between them as he opened his mouth to the wet, delicious heat between her thighs.

It had been a quick, easy hour to celebrate the curse being broken. They had both been elated, and willing to oblige one another.

"You'd never say no to me?" She crooned in mock-affection, and Hook was brought back to the present. "…if you truly had any idea what I'm capable of, you'd never say anything so foolish." Her hand moved down his paralyzed form to delicately cup what lay between his thighs. "I would blame your words on your youth, but we both know that you're not young at all. Your years with the lost boys were years all the same."

Too softly for her intentions to be anything but agonizing, she squeezed between his legs, and Hook would have shuddered if not for his immobile state against the wall of his cabin. Her eyes were narrowed thoughtfully; dark lashes framing her eyes; painted lips slightly parted.

Drawing in a breath, Hook strained to turn his head down, to see what her hand looked like against his trousers.

"I'm aquiver with curiosity." He breathed out, a low growl in the back of his throat, already starting to salivate.

"Curiosity? Is that all?" She droned, and suddenly Hook's body was free. It had been unexpected, and he fell to the ground, to his knees. His surprisingly intact heart thudded in his chest, and he looked up at the woman in front of him with minor unease. He could still feel her magic in the air: it emanated even more strongly from her than the air that she breathed.

He had been with plenty of women in his time, but Cora was something else. Even Milah, as much as he had loved her, had been familiar as a woman. She had been more than anything he could have imagined, but a woman she had been: and women were what he knew.

Cora was something altogether different. Whether or not it was her age or her magic, he didn't know. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

"…perhaps not." Hook admitted, making a measured and wary move to get to his feet.

"No." A hand in his hair stilled him, and the coldness in her voice made his gut clench. "I want you on your knees."

"Am I so _common_ that you would have me kneel before you like a peasant?" He breathed out, but remained on the ground, his hand helping to support him while his hook came to rest on the very edge of her boot.

"In the eyes of any other queen, Killian, you'd be even less than that." Cora gripped his hair more tightly, and he tensed. "…you're a pirate."

"I'm a _captain_." He didn't break their gaze: he knew that she was stronger, but that didn't mean that he was weak.

"Yes, dear. _Captain Hook_. You've sailed the seven seas. You've fought the crocodile. You've pillaged and stolen, lied and cheated." She abruptly turned her wrist, strengthened by her conduct as much as her magic, and he found himself flat on his back. "…but you lack accountability. You need to learn that every action has a consequence."

"…and, pray tell, what is this a consequence for, _Your Majesty_?" Hook breathed out, looking up at the woman who had spared both his heart and his life on multiple occasions.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something you've done that deserves retribution." Killian couldn't tell if Cora was moving slowly, or if he was simply so caught up in the moment that his mind wasn't moving as fast as it should have been.

Kneeling behind his head, she cupped his face in a small but strong hand, her touch cool against his heated, and unshaven cheek. With her free hand, she leaned over him to undo the intricate metal clasps that kept his coat closed. Under it, he wore nothing: Killian had no hesitation about being exposed, especially to beautiful women.

For his part, he could see her chest above as him rose and fell with every breath. It was painfully covered by her dress, and with all of his might he wished it gone.

As her fingers worked over the clasps, far too slowly for his liking, she continued to speak.

"What would you do, Killian, if I were one of the women you find in coastal taverns? Would you be so careful then, or would you have already spent yourself against a willing body?"

"I've survived long enough to know better than to compare someone like you to a common whore, Cora." Hook sighed, and their eyes briefly met. "What do you take me for? A fool?"

"Maybe not a fool." She pulled one side of the garment open, exposing half of his chest. "…but I will take you."

Hook couldn't hide the shiver that went down his spine as she opened his jacket completely, and his front was bared to her.

"Oh, and look at you now, Killian." Her fingers moved to one of his nipples, nails scraping over it, the nub surprisingly hard. "I have to wonder if the rest of you is quite so…elated."

No other woman had made color rise in his cheeks so quickly: no other woman had been able to rob him of his conviction in as little as a row of undone fastenings.

"Cora." Hook moved his hand over hers, and she made no move to stop him.

"Yes, Killian?" She let the fingers of her other hand brush over his lips.

"You're being _painstakingly_ deliberate. Why?" He asked, looking into her eyes.

"I suppose you're right. After all…" She mused, turning in a fluid movement so that she was on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips as she took his face in both hands. "…I do normally prefer to do more pleasurable things when I have a man on his back." She whispered into his ear.

His face began to burn, though with what sentiment he was unsure.

"Cora." He breathed her name again, but this time it wasn't a question, and Cora knew it. The pressure between his legs was only increasing, and he was very much regretting the tightness of his trousers. There wasn't any room, and soon the tension would become painful.

"…as mighty as you think you are, you'd do well not to forget that it was a woman who brought you into this world…and it just might be woman who will bring you into the next." Moving down slightly, she leaned over him, her skirts spread over both of their legs, and finally pressed their lips together.

There was nothing soft or chaste about Cora's kisses. They always had purpose. Hook didn't have any time to question what she wanted, all that he could do was kiss her back. A groan already building in his throat, he let her tongue pry him open, his body feeling suddenly too hot for the open sea.

One of Cora's hands was in his hair, the other giving the one of the hard, sensitive nubs on his chest a rigid pinch. _That_ was something that no woman had ever done before, and a sound escaped Hook's mouth into the kiss. Again, his face flooded with color, embarrassed at his body for emitting such a womanly reaction.

Slowly she sat up, pulling him with her.

"Come." She whispered, and they got to their feet. Still clothed, makeup and hair looking untouched, she stood before him as if expecting something from the captain.

He looked at her questioningly for a moment, and then found himself answered as he felt his jacket fall from his shoulders, Cora's magic pulling it to the floor.

"This won't be about your pleasure, Killian." She whispered, their gazes locked as she reached forward to undo his trousers.

"Then what _will_ it be about?" He asked, letting out a thankful sigh as some of the pressure on his erection was relieved.

"A lesson." Putting a hand against his chest, between his pectorals, Cora began to walk: to lead Hook onto the deck.

"And what will I learn?" He asked, his backward steps confident as he continued to look at her. She really was exquisite: older women didn't get enough credit for their beauty.

"If I told you now, there would be no point in doing this." Her hand moved from his chest to his throat in an instant, and Hook found himself arching back over the side of the ship, the railing pressing into his lower back.

"And what exactly _are_ you doing?" Hook asked, stunned by the sudden change in position. He could hear water moving against the ship, and felt sea spray against the back of his head. Cora wasn't going to push him off the ship: so what _was_ she going to do? Resolving to be in a helpless position didn't sit well with Killian: being bent over his own ship at Cora's mercy was quite different from agreeing to wait among corpses for Snow White and her brood.

"You keep asking me to spoil the surprise. Where's your sense of adventure?" Cora asked, fingers still wrapped around his throat as she leaned over him and captured his mouth in a remarkably greedy kiss.

His hands moved to her waist, and for a few moments he gave into how demanding her lips were, how they made him heat up and melt. He'd been intending to reply when she pulled away, but found all of his words lost.

Feeling teeth on his lower lip, Killian willingly opened his mouth for the Queen of Hearts, his thoughts softening into a hot, red haze as her clever fingers found his nipple again. It hurt, but that didn't mean that it pained him.

The heaviness of his cock straining against his trousers was truly uncomfortable by that point, and he reached down to draw himself out, to display his eagerness for Cora to see.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" She smirked, their lips brushing as she spoke.

"What?" Hook asked, a little bewildered as he gently gripped his arousal. "You can't possibly expect me to keep myself tucked in."

Cora just laughed and pinched his nipple even harder, causing Killian to hiss in surprise and mild discomfort as she gave her fingers a small twist.

"You're going to bruise me." He half-laughed. It wasn't something that angered him. Cora was good with her hands, and he was comfortable with his body bearing the consequences of being with a beautiful woman.

"Something to remember me by when we part ways on the coast."

Their mouths were together again, and he was sitting on the edge of the railing, Cora dangerously straddling him. A sudden movement could easily send both of them over the edge. Hungry for more, Hook tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her up to deepen the kiss.

She responded by biting down on his lip again and giving the sore nub on his chest a harsh squeeze: this was her game, not his. Frustrated, Hook settled for parting his lips and letting her ravage him. This, he decided, was a taste that he never wanted to get out of his mouth.

He moved his hand from her hair to her chest, cursing the thick fabric of her dress.

"In time." She promised into the kiss, her own voice low with arousal, its already husky undertones magnified.

"_Now_." It was difficult to truly be afraid of Cora when he wanted her so badly.

"Patience." She chided, glancing down to where Hook's arousal was resting between his stomach and her skirts. "I must warn you now, Captain, if you make a mess on this dress I'm afraid just might make you walk the plank."

"If you want it to keep it clean, then maybe you should take it off." Hook countered, absently rubbing his fingers over the nipple that Cora had been abusing.

"You're so clever." Rolling her eyes, Cora slid down off of Hook's thighs and stood, her hands planted firmly on his hips to keep him down.

Hook knew that he was a splendid sight: his face flushed and his pants barely holding onto his hips. Cora's attentions were keeping him hard, and his erection was out of his unlaced trousers and against his stomach, resting on the trail of hair that led down past his bellybutton.

Seeming appreciative, Cora slowly looked him up and down. "Just look what I've done to you." She said softly, the only sign of her own arousal a slight deepening in her voice and a light rise in the color of her cheeks. "You carry too much of your strength in your sword, Killian. That could very well be the end of you."

"It could be worse." He pushed his hips up into her grip, his eagerness clear and erect between his legs.

"Turn around." She pulled back, her frown deepening when he made no move to do as he was told. "I said turn around."

"Why?" Hook asked, meeting her gaze with a brazen scowl. It was a dangerous thing to question an order from the Queen of Hearts, but how could he not? There was little that they could do for one another with his back turned.

Eyebrows furrowing and her teeth becoming visible, Cora moved her hand through the air, and Killian was abruptly forced onto his stomach, the hard railing jutting painfully against his hipbones.

"Did you never learn your manners, Captain Hook?" Cora whispered, leaning over him and reaching down to squeeze his backside in a bruising grip. "When a lady speaks, you _listen_."

"Apparently not." He grunted, uncomfortable and irritated with the way that her weight was pressing against his back, trapping him against the railing. He could see the water below him, and it was a familiar sight. The gentle rocking of the boat caused his erection to occasionally brush against the side of the ship, and he was glad that the wood had been smoothed with good care and old age. Of all the places he didn't want a splinter, that had to be number one.

Securing her fingers in the back of his trousers, Cora pulled down and they were around his ankles a moment later, leaving him exposed to the queen.

"You've been holding out on me, Killian." She whispered, her voice dropping one octave in tone and raising two in deadliness. "That lovely coat of yours covers up some of your greatest assets, wouldn't you agree?"

In all of his years, no woman had ever done this to him: no woman had ever bent him over to see him from behind. They'd whistled as he left a room, or grabbed on to gain leverage while he fucked them, but never this. If it had been anyone but Cora, Hook would have retaliated.

But it _was_ Cora, and he knew better than to say no.

"What are you going to do to me?" He asked, not fearful yet, only curious. He had no reason to believe that she was going to do anything too unexpected.

"Patience." Cora gave him another squeeze, her nails digging into the soft, breakable skin where his buttocks became his thighs. "Wait and see."

Hook didn't want to wait: he wanted to hike up Cora's dress and rut against her until her hair was damp and her lipstick long gone, washed away with kisses and sweat. How it had come to this: Captain Hook bent over on his own ship, he had no idea. Letting out a frustrated groan, he raised up his hand and to grip the railing, not caring to take the effort to strain his neck and watch her. Feeling her was enough.

"No one's ever seen you like this, have they?" She whispered. "…no one with my intentions, anyway." Leaning down, she idly kissed the back of his neck a few times. Hook didn't have to ask to know that she tasted sweat. "…perhaps in battle, but I'm afraid that war is one of the last things on my mind right now."

"And what _are_ your intentions, my dear Cora?" Hook's voice was almost a growl. His arousal had gotten to the point where it was more frustrating than pleasurable. "For such a sunny day as it is, you seem to be enjoying keeping me in the dark."

Had Hook thought to look over his shoulder, he would have seen her expression darken.

"Listen to me, Killian Jones. Let me make myself _abundantly_ clear." She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. "This isn't about your _pleasure_. It's about _mine_. The only thing you are to gain from it is wisdom."

Captain Killian Jones wasn't used to being afraid. The anguished, terrified state he'd been in while being forced to watch Milah's death had made all else pale in comparison. He wasn't pale now: his face was flushed, and his brow was damp with sweat. In a rare moment, words wouldn't come to him: he had no response for Cora, no rebuttal or clever remark.

"Don't you have anything to say to me, _Captain_?" She asked, breath ghosting over the side of his face as she gave his backside another squeeze. It sent a surprising wave of pleasure to his aching length, and he bit down on his lower lip to keep back a moan.

"Carry on." He murmured after another second of silence, his gaze still focused on the water. "Carry…carry on."

"Good." She whispered her approval and let go of his hair, allowing him to lower both his head and his gaze. Pulling back slightly, Cora looked down and gripped both cheeks, spreading them slightly.

"What are you doing, Cora?" Hook's voice rose slightly in both pitch and seriousness, and he gripped the railing hard, body tense. "Why are you doing that?"

"There are some things that all men should experience, Killian. You are no exception."

"That's enough." His heart was beating too fast: something was wrong. He began to turn around, willing to stop what they were doing in favor of keeping his dignity.

"Don't." The simple word came out in a snarl, and Cora's hand landed hard on his backside. Hook was too shocked to continue to move, and for a moment he went limp. That was all that Cora needed: in the next moment, he was bound with magic, his feet rooted to the deck. Once he'd stopped trying to move, her voice returned to its normal aloofness. "Don't, Killian. Don't."

She raised a hand into the air, and a small bottle that Killian would have recognized from his cabin materialized in her fingers. Delicately spreading some of its contents onto two of her fingers, she moved them down his spine, leaving a small trail of oil leading down to the curve of his backside.

For his part, Hook could only shiver in unknown anticipation. What Cora was doing troubled him. Even though he didn't want let the thought register, he knew where her fingers were going. "Cora." He said more quietly. It wasn't an objection: they both knew that he wouldn't say no.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." She murmured back, fingers moving further and further south. Hook's body clenched involuntarily as they reached their destination. "Relax." She added softly, her other hand gently splayed between his shoulder blades as she pushed the digits forward.

It felt strange. He wasn't yet sure how he felt about it, but it was new, and something that he'd never wanted. He knew better than to speak, but he couldn't help but let out a small, low sound as her fingers ventured deeper and found something wonderful.

"Yes, Hook?" She said gently, giving him permission for a more articulate response.

"F…fuck." He growled, far less eloquent than usual. He hadn't known. He'd never known. Never asked, and never told. The light pressure between his legs, Cora's touch against what he'd never felt before, was driving him insane. He needed release, but it was clear that Cora wasn't going to provide it. At the same time, though his upper half wasn't bound by magic, it seemed that he couldn't bear to move his hand from the railing. It was gripping too tightly, and he needed to be grounded.

"You've done this to women, haven't you? The particularly…wild ones." She pushed her fingers in hard, and he shuddered and clenched, trying not to push back. "Answer me, Hook."

"Yes." He admitted, the word rushed and his breathing uneven.

"Then you're no stranger to what comes next."

"But…" Brow furrowed, he glanced over his shoulder, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "You don't have—"

"But I have_ magic_." She cut him off, and their eyes met for a brief instant before he looked away again.

A large part of Hook wanted to protest and turn away, to jump ship and swim back to Fairytaleland. The part of him that wanted to survive, to avoid Cora's wrath, kept him silent. Besides that, it did feel _good_. His body was willing, even if the rest of him was uncertain.

Her fingers withdrew, and Hook tensed. Yes, Cora had magic, but what did that _mean_? His eyes were squeezed shut, and his muscles taught. It was a few moments before anything happened.

More suddenly than he'd expected, Hook felt _something_ between his legs. It wasn't solid: it wasn't even _really_ physical. It was magic, and he knew it, and he didn't want to let it in. "Cora—" He let out her name again.

"Shh…" She murmured, planting a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. He felt another push forward, and he was breached. It hurt. It more than hurt. It _burned_. Was this what the women had felt like?

He couldn't imagine that it was all that different: this was part of the anatomy that went unchanged between the sexes, equally sensitive and equally unmade for this. Cora didn't push her magic forward until his muscle relented and began to relax. For that, Killian was incredibly grateful.

Sometimes, he had wondered what it would be like to be a woman: to be fucked. This, he realized, was the closest that he was going to get. The pressure began to pull back, and Hook realized that his legs were free as he tried to move back with it, not wanting to lose the feeling.

"Relax." Cora increased pressure on the hand between Hook's shoulders, keeping him down and keeping him in place. "Just relax."

He realized that there had been little cause for worry as he was filled again. The stretch of his muscle hurt, but he was eager for Cora's magic to find what her fingers had sought out earlier. _That_ was worth the pain. It didn't take long for Killian to get used to what it felt like to have something (someone?) inside of him: the push and pull of Cora's magic against a place that had, up until that point, been private.

More quickly than he'd expected, Hook got his wish: in fact, it almost came as a surprise. Suddenly overcome with pleasure, he cried out and curled against the railing, the bruises that were blossoming on his hips the very least of his concerns.

"Hell!" He cried out, letting out a rare whimper and scrambling to find a hold.

"You can touch yourself." Cora murmured, her voice gentle though her magic was not, the thrusts increasing in both pace as intensity as Hook's responses became less controlled.

Taking those words as both an order and as his liberation, Hook moved his hand down and furiously started to move it over his arousal, guttural sounds ripping themselves from his throat as he fought his way to a well-deserved release.

"Say it." Cora said simply, and Hook knew exactly what she meant.

"Y…your… your…" His voice was weak: his body was weak. He'd never felt like this before.

"Yes. _Yes_." Though Cora's hands had stayed out of her skirts, Killian didn't doubt that there was heat between her legs.

"_Your Majesty_!" Hook cried out, finally reaching an orgasm as he furiously moved his hand, release hitting the deck as he trembled and moaned, moving desperately back against what was inside of him as he strove to ride out his relief full force.

Cora's magic withdrew and evaporated, and Hook slumped down to his knees, breath coming out in shattered gasps. His trousers were still around his ankles, and his back and legs were sore and tight from being bent over.

Slight but strong hands drew him up, though his knees were still shaking. The walk back to his cabin was awkward to say the least.

Laying down her captain, the Queen of Hearts sat on the edge of the cot and reached behind herself, undoing the complicated fastenings that kept her dress on her frame.

"What now?" Hook asked, watching her with exhausted curiosity.

"All magic comes with a price, my dear." She whispered, her bodice falling down to reveal her bare chest. "But for you, Killian, I am willing to pay." Taking his hand, she guided it to her bosom and leaned down.

What came after that was gentle and well deserved. It was his hands on her breasts, and his mouth seeking out what lay under the soft brown curls between her legs. After that, Cora urged him to find sleep in the final hour of their journey. He was happy to indulge, and found himself slipping out of consciousness as she was lacing up her dress.

"Killian! Put yourself together!"

Startled awake, Killian sat up and looked to Cora, his trousers still around his ankles. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the excitement in his chest: they'd arrived.

Grin positively feral, Hook swung his legs over the edge of the cot and pulled up his trousers, ignoring any protests that his body gave. On his way out, he picked up his long abandoned jacket from the floor, carelessly buckling the clasps that Cora had so tenderly undone hours before.

Grabbing his spyglass, he ran from the cabin more quickly than he should have (his knees were still weak) and joined Cora at the prow. She was holding a blackened rose: the same flower that Regina had laid in her tomb years ago.

Killian's reminder of his mission was much less fleeting: the absence of his hand was something that he couldn't put away for safekeeping.

"There it is."

"_Storybrooke."_


	3. Chapter 2

Warning: this chapter contains explicit rape.

Everything was falling into place for Jefferson. He was still in Storybrooke, but so was everyone else. He was still living on the outskirts of the city in the house that Regina had made for him, but he wasn't alone: he had Grace, and they were happy.

For twenty-eight years he had watched her. For twenty-eight years she had remained the same. For twenty-eight years he was wracked with agonizing regret, his every breath and every heartbeat pushing him closer and closer to a claustrophobic insanity that the Mad Hatter was uncomfortably familiar with.

But the Mad Hatter was dead.

Jefferson remained.

The curse had been broken, and he and Grace had been reunited. They were a family again.

At first he'd been worried that Grace would hate him for leaving her all those years ago. She had seemed happy enough in the family that Regina had given her. Would she still need him? When he'd voiced those concerns as he sat with his daughter and her surrogate parents, for Grace had of course invited him to dinner after their reunion, his daughter's Storybrooke mother had shaken her head.

"Maybe for those who had truly wronged the Evil Queen, things here sometimes changed." Sighing, she looked to her husband. "For the rest of us, it was just like a very, very long day."

They were still on good terms of course, but everyone was still recovering from the curse being broken. Grace's surrogate parents had their own family to find: their own lost children.

Grace had moved into his home, and been thoroughly impressed. For over a week, they'd gone unbothered. The new sheriff hadn't come calling. The reason was obvious: as far as he knew, Emma and Snow White were still missing. The "Mad Hatter" was the least of Prince Charming's problems.

Finally, things were looking up.

For the ninth day in a row, he tucked Grace into bed. She was eleven, and perhaps too old for such things, but they were both willing to make up for the time that they'd lost.

More blissful than he'd perhaps ever been, Jefferson went to his own bedroom, two doors down. Tired after a long day of walking through the forest with Grace, showing her his maps and watching her face light up, he was eager for rest.

Changing into his pajamas, he buttoned his shirt up to the throat. Even in his sleep, his throat wasn't' something that he liked to have exposed.

Getting into bed and under silk sheets, he closed his eyes. Since he'd found Grace, no nightmares had troubled him: what a difference from the last twenty-eight years. What _relief_.

As he slipped out of the waking world, however, _his_ voice began to jump around Jefferson's skull.

The Mad Hatter.

xxx

"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then!"

Years, years, years he's been here. Yesterday was weeks ago. Years, or days? Days, or no time at all? He can't tell: there's no way out. There's no way out. _There's no way out_.

Furiously shoving a needle through a piece of felt, the Mad Hatter worked tirelessly to complete another hat for _Her Majesty_. His mind was a fever, his thoughts fragmented and his heart pitter-pattering with the irregularity of rain.

Except, there wasn't any rain: it didn't seem to rain in Wonderland. Not at his window. Time dragged on and on, unchanging and unstopping. Years, months, weeks, hours, days!

He paused only when he felt something wet rolling down his wrist. Mouth opening in a dry shriek, he looked down to see that the needle had impaled his palm. For a moment, he was absolutely still. He didn't move, he couldn't: red was _her_ color.

But the hats! Springing up, he flung away the bowler he'd been working on and pressed his bleeding palm to his chest, the needle, tinted with his blood, falling to the floor with a soft _ping_.

No blood could get on the hats: blood was red, and red was _her_ color, and the queen's magic was too _heavy_ for hat tricks.

It hadn't taken long for Jefferson to fall into madness: the anguish of abandoning his daughter had set his madness into motion; from there it had only escalated.

But he was _bleeding_. That was no good. Hands shaking and hair wild and tangled from a lack of care, he made his way to the window. He could see freedom, but the window, he knew, would not break. He'd tried.

When a royal guard came to check on him hours later, he was unmoved, still standing hunched over with his hand at his chest.

"Alright, hatter." The guard said gruffly, approaching the strange man who had seemed to walk into Wonderland from nowhere at all. "The queen will see you now."

"I'll take my tea with Alice." He chattered. "Alice is late." He turned his face to the guard, eyes wide with a lunacy that all around him prayed would soon pass. For a brief instant, sadness passed through his gaze, but in another moment it was gone again. "Alice is very late indeed."

"Come on." The guard grabbed the other man's elbow and began to lead him out of the room. The hatter followed him willingly until they reached the doorframe. There, his heels dug into the ground and he refused to budge. "_Move_." The guard growled, impatient. No one liked taking the Mad Hatter to the Queen of Hearts: it was a difficult task reserved for only the less popular of those working under Her Majesty.

Remaining silent, Jefferson's gaze was on the door, though he didn't acknowledge it. All that he knew, in his crazed state, was that bad things always happened when the guards came. His hats, for as senseless as they made him, kept him safe. They kept him alive, though in his better moments he thought that perhaps it would have been better to die.

"Move!" Exasperation on his face, the guard pulled hard on Jefferson's arm. "You wouldn't want to keep Her Majesty waiting, would you?"

Something in the hatter clicked, and for a split second he saw reason. Unblinking, hands shaking, he exited the chamber and stepped into the hallway. Feeling detached and listless without the mountains of hats that usually surrounded him, he kept his gaze on the floor and let the guard pull him along.

He went through the second doorway more easily when the guard pulled him forward. For a moment, he forgot the danger that lay in store for him.

"Failure doesn't sit well with me, hatter." Her voice was deep and dangerous. That wasn't unusual, but it still made him cower. "Do you know how long you've been trying, and _failing_, to please me? How long I've been merciful?"

He could only shake his head, eyes open and facing his feet. He couldn't look at her. _Don't look into the eyes of the devil. Don't look._

"Answer me!" Her voice dropped even lower, and he flinched. He knew the pain that could accompany that voice, and he feared it.

"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then!" Certain phrases had been repeating in his head for days. Weeks. Months. Years? They were often the only things that he could conjure up to say, especially when faced with the thing that terrified him most. Her Majesty.

"Don't play games with me."

He was on the floor in the next instant, and he felt the tip of her shoe against his chin. It forced him to look up.

"No games here." He whispered. There was no part of his gaze that wasn't consumed by madness. "No games at all. Not here. Not anymore." He made no move to get up, frozen on the ground before her.

"Mad man." She scoffed, pulling her foot back for a moment before moving it forward again, kicking him swiftly in the jaw. He tasted blood. "Mad _Hatter_."

"That's my name!" He laughed, though there were tears in eyes and blood in his mouth. "That's what they call me!"

"No matter how many times I call you here, " She seemed to have chosen to ignore her prisoner's insanity, at least for the moment. "you never learn your lesson. Even _children_ are more intelligent than you. Even your _daughter_ must be."

Jefferson started to tremble in earnest, distant, blurry pictures of a pretty little girl flitting past his vision.

"Please. _Please."_ That was all that he could say. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore: just that the Evil Queen could give it, but refused to.

When he had entered the room, her face had been covered. The guards were gone. They were alone. With no one else to see her, she had removed her mask, and her face was bared to him.

"Yes. That's right." Slowly, Cora stepped out of her ruby red shoes and knelt down next to Jefferson, her touch gentle as she turned his bloody chin toward her. Gently, too gently to be anything but terrifying, she pressed their lips together. They had been red before, and now they shined with blood. "That's right."

The room was small and narrow. It was the smaller of Her Majesty's two throne rooms: the one reserved for more private consultations.

"_Beg me."_ She growled, standing and walking proudly to her throne. Their eyes locked together, hers narrowed and his wide, and she began to raise her skirts.

"Please." He whispered again, his voice suddenly dry and less high-pitched. In his crazed state, routine was the only thing that kept him balanced. This, the queen's skirts and knees, was as regular to him as his hats. On his knees, he crawled toward her. If he could please her, then perhaps he could reach redemption.

As he came within a few feet of her, she held out her foot to stop him, her toes against his forehead.

"Not yet." Drawing a handkerchief from her bodice, she tossed it to him.

Though he understood little, the Mad Hatter understood what he was meant to do. Hurriedly picking it up, he wiped it over his mouth and chin. Soon enough the blood was very nearly gone, though his lip was still swollen where he had bitten it when Cora had kicked him.

A small wave of her hand, and what little blood remained had vanished. Only when Her Majesty inclined her head in a small nod did he continue his approach. His mouth was open: watering.

Slowly, she continued to hike up her skirts, though the rest of her undergarments covered her and kept her modest.

Reaching out shaking hands, Jefferson slowly hooked his fingers in what still covered her, and pulled down. He was almost immediately met with a nest of dark curls.

The last of her undergarments fell to the floor, and he stared between her legs. He could already see and smell dampness there: evidently her earlier aggression had not gone unrewarded between her thighs.

"Well?" She whispered. "Are you going to beg me or not?"

"Your Majesty." He leaned down and pressed his lips to her feet. "Your Majesty. _Please_."

"Very well." She sighed, as if she was rewarding him and not punishing him, not pushing him further to the brink of an insanity that he could _never_ truly come down from.

Lips still parted, he leaned in and put his mouth over the warm, wet heat between her legs, tasting her and taking her in. After a few moments, he seemed to realize what was happening and his attitude turned from caution to hunger.

He eagerly moved his mouth over her folds, shoving his tongue between them and taking in the wetness there. A deep, throaty groan above him reminded him of the pain that would come from displeasing her, and he moved his mouth to the ball of nerves above her labia.

"_Good."_

Sucking hard, he pushed his tongue desperately against her clitoris, and felt her push down on him. A hand reached down to grip his hair, and she began to rut down against his mouth.

Jefferson couldn't breath. Her heat, her scent, engulfed him. He didn't care. Being suffocated by the Queen of Hearts was no worse than being choked by his own growing madness.

He could feel her wetness against his chin, and knew that if he pulled away it would glisten there.

All too soon her movements against him became stronger and more erratic, and her thighs were crushing the sides of his head as he felt her tense and then relax in spasms, slowly finishing until she lay back in her throne, legs still spread.

He looked up fearfully at her, his chin and mouth slick and wet. "Your Majesty?"

"Get down." She growled, her voice still low with arousal. The Queen of Hearts _always_ got what she desired. Pain was no exception, and neither was pleasure. She held out her hand, and Jefferson found himself flat on his back. Her fingers curled and she pulled down, and so his trousers were ripped from him. He was flaccid, his lack of arousal evident and limp between his legs. "_What_ is _that_?"

Face heated, still tasting her, he swallowed and looked to the side.

"Are you that pathetic, so much of a weakling that pleasuring _The Queen of Hearts_ cannot arouse you?" She growled. "Is that brat even yours? Could you raise yourself even once, or are you incapable of fathering a child?"

"There's no way out. _There's no way out_." He whimpered, tears running down his cheeks.

"You're pathetic." She reached down between her legs to slick her hand, and then grabbed him, jerking him to a forced arousal. It was minutes before he was hard, but for every moment that went by he felt another part of himself die.

She mounted him, and consumed him. Jefferson felt her heat devour his involuntary hardness, and let out a ragged sob. "Please…"

They didn't speak: they only breathed. Cora's breaths were deep and quick, occasionally accompanied by deep groans and gasps. Her hand moved down to rub herself, and Jefferson continued to cry.

His own breaths were ragged and broken. Sometimes he stopped crying. Sometimes he forgot that he was there at all. When Cora called him away from his hats and took his body, his mind often escaped it. It was easier to watch from a distance: to pretend that he wasn't there.

Eventually, she pushed down hard against him, taking both his arousal and his will inside of her, and he felt her begin to convulse again. She tightened and relaxed around him, and he turned his head to the side so that he could look at the wall instead of the ceiling.

He'd once heard that a change of scenery could relieve stress.

A breathless smile on her face, she looked down at Jefferson.

"You haven't come yet." Her voice is still throaty and full. "You don't deserve it, but I will show you mercy."

Though her orgasm was done, she was still wet, and easily continued to ride him.

With all of the free will that he had left, Jefferson resisted his own release. Unfortunately for the Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts refused to be denied.

Choking from the force of his resistance, Jefferson came quickly. His orgasm was unsatisfying and unwanted. He couldn't even move his hips: her force kept him down. Finished with him, she dismounted and stood, her skirts falling to her feet as if they'd never been up to her waist.

"Go."

Violated and shamed, Jefferson walked by himself back to his hats, his trousers in tatters and his spirit faring no better.

xxx

Jefferson didn't dream: he remembered. His nightmares had been real once.

Hours after laying his head down to sleep, he woke up in a cold sweat with tears on his cheeks: a silent scream on his mouth and his eyes wide with shock and fear.

In a moment, the expression of the Mad Hatter deserted him and he was left shaking and afraid. His lip was throbbing: evidently Cora's kick in his memory had triggered his reaction a second time. There was blood, some wet and some dried, on his lips and chin.

Sometimes, the anxiety from his nightmares—his memories—left him quickly and he was able to spend his time as if he'd never woken up in a cold sweat. On other occasions, a lingering fear stayed with him throughout the day, but he was able to overcome it.

Cora's presence only haunted him in dreams. In the waking world, he was usually able to suppress thoughts of his time as the Mad Hatter.

This time, nothing changed: he was just as afraid as he'd been in Wonderland. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

"She's here." He whispered, raising a hand to the buttoned collar that covered his neck. A final tear rolled down his cheek, and he bit down on his already swollen lip.

Nothing could save him now.

For a moment, all he thought of was himself. What would he do if she found him? _What would he do if she found him_?

In the next instant, he was tumbling out of bed and to the door. _Grace_.

Wiping his mouth of blood, he flung the door open and ran down to her bedroom. She'd been so pleased with it: it was enormous, and bright, and filled with everything that she could ever want. He needed her to be happy.

His whole body was wracked with relief when he saw her sleeping. In the next few moments, he calmed down.

Cora couldn't be in Storybrooke: his hat was destroyed. Charming had showed it to him. Taking away Emma and Snow had been its final act.

On his way back to his bedroom, he nearly began to panic again at a vase of roses in the hallway. Red roses. _Her_ flower. _Her_ color. Then, he remembered how much Grace had liked them. His love for his daughter had been more than his fear of _Her Majesty_ and he had bought them for her.

Cora couldn't be in Storybrooke. That was impossible.

The Queen of Hearts was only a memory.


	4. Chapter 3

"And where are you running off to, Killian?"

"I'm afraid that our deal is done, my dear Cora."

"You really think it's that simple?" Cora raised an eyebrow. "…that you can run off and take Rumplestiltskin's head?"

"You said so yourself that that there isn't magic here."

Raising an eyebrow, Cora waved her hand and Hook was raised into the air.

"And I was wrong." She let him down again. "If Rumplestiltskin has his magic back, then you can't simply go running after him."

Lips pursed, Hook nodded stiffly. "And pray tell, what did you have in mind?"

"Before I tell you my plan, we need a place to stay."

"We have my ship." Hook pointed out, pointing to the vessel with a frown.

"That may be fit for a pirate." Cora scoffed. "I am a _queen_."

"You can't be serious." He groaned, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a long sigh. "Well you can go rent out an entire inn if that's what suits you. I'll stay on my ship."

"Don't be foolish. Splitting up has caused more defeats than victories." Cora paused, and looked over her shoulder. "…speaking of your ship."

"Yes?" Hook frowned.

Cora reached out, and the vessel appeared to vanish.

"What did you do to my ship!" Hook started to run to the dog, but Cora stopped him.

"It's still there, but hidden. Now come with me."

"Where are we going?" He asked, still looking self-assured despite the sudden change in plans.

"Everyone who has ever wronged my daughter will be here, in this place." A smirk slowly spread across Cora's face. "…I think that it's in our best interest to pay an old friend of mine a visit."

"Friend?" Hook asked, tone verging on the edge of skepticism.

"I use the word loosely." She offered her arm, and hook took it. "Come." In the dark, early hours of the morning, they began to make their way into Storybrooke.

xxx

As Jefferson settled back down to sleep, the clock read 3:23. It would be another few hours until he got up for good. Taking a deep breath, he lay back and tried to will himself back to sleep.

For the first few minutes, he was able to start relaxing.

The clock read 3:26 when he heard footsteps.

Eyes snapping open, Jefferson got out of bed again. This time, he was quiet. Opening his nightstand, he grabbed the gun that he kept there and slowly made his way out of his room and down the hall. When he lived alone, he might have risked death or injury.

Now that his daughter was with him again, he had something to protect. There was little else he would die for. He paused at her room for a moment, and then continued on. There was no need to scare her: he was going to keep her safe.

Whoever was in his house wasn't trying to be careful. Jefferson could hear voices, though they were still muffled. Whispers. It sounded like they hadn't strayed far from the front door.

Slowly and carefully, he made his way down the stairs, eyes narrowed as he tightened his grip on the firearm. It was probably Regina: there seemed to be no end to the requests that the Evil Queen had for him. At the same time, he could hear two voices: Regina wasn't alone.

Regina had _no right_ to be in his house. They were in Storybrooke, not Fairytaleland. There was no reason why she couldn't call him, or send him an email.

"Jefferson! Don't keep us waiting."

For an instant, his blood ran cold. It was a woman, but it wasn't Regina. It was a queen, but not the one he'd been expecting.

_Cora_.

The gun felt from his hand, not making much of a sound on the plush carpet that covered the staircase. No. This had to be a nightmare. One hand moving to his throat, he took a few slow steps, meeting the bottom of the stairs. He could see movement just around the corner, and he knew it was her.

"What did you drop? Are you really so clumsy?" She entered the hall, and Jefferson's throat tightened. For a few seconds, he couldn't breathe.

"You can't be here." His voice was anything but steady. "You can't be."

"But I am." She looked around. "…I must say, I do approve of your home. Yet…it seems so large. So empty." Eyes narrowing dangerously, she stared her hatter down. "Too much so for one person. Is your daughter asleep?"

"Yes." He answered quickly, hands clammy. "Please don't hurt her."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it! Certainly I more than most know what a gift children are." Her red lips curled into a smirk. "….as long as you obey me, I won't harm a single hair on her head."

"And what are your terms?" Jefferson asked, suddenly feeling old and tired. He knew that he would follow her without question: he had no choice. Anything to protect his Grace.

"I will stay in your home, and you will tell no one that I am here." She looked to her left, and Jefferson realized that she wasn't alone. A man stood next to her, posed confidently with one hand on his hip. His other hand was no hand at all: a dangerously curved piece of metal attached to his wrist instead. Captain Hook.

"Is that all?" Jefferson asked, his tone abrupt.

"You will provide for us. Make sure we're comfortable."

"Can I eat this?" Hook asked in the background, spearing an apple on his hook and taking a bite out of it.

All that Jefferson could do was give a short nod, one hand still at his neck. If he thought hard enough about it, he could still remember exactly what losing his head had been like.

Seeming to pay Jefferson little attention, Hook took a large bite from the apple, the crunch sounding like a gunshot to the other man's ears.

"Excellent. In that case, I'll be moving in."

"When?" Jefferson managed to get out, surprised that he could even muster up enough strength to speak.

"Immediately." Titling her head toward Hook, Cora raised her eyebrows. "I trust that you'll help me move my things, Killian?"

"If you say so." Hook frowned slightly and took another bite of the apple, looking as if he was quite done with obeying Cora's orders.

"Good. As for you, I expect your finest bedchamber to be ready for us when we return."

For a moment Jefferson opened his mouth, looking uneasy as he glanced at Hook. Did the pirate need a bedroom as well?

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I'll be sleeping on my ship." The captain pulled the apple from his hook and dropped it back into the bowl he'd taken it from. Licking his lips, he looked to Cora.

"With _all due_ _respect_, Hook, that makes absolutely no sense. I can't use my magic to shield you from the other side of the city, and Snow White and her brood are sure to see you walking on and off of an _invisible boat_." Cora said matter-of-factly, examining her fingernails.

"Ship." Hook corrected, his tone sharp. "My invisible _ship_." He paused for a tense moment, and then looked comfortable again. "Fine. I'd rather draw my attention to this hovel than my ship, anyway."

"Excellent." Cora offered her arm to Hook. "Then let's go." They vanished in a cloud of blue smoke, and Jefferson was left on his own. Shaking from head to toe, he walked over to where Hook had been standing and picked up the half-eaten apple that the pirate hadn't finished.

Scarcely able to feel—his emotions and his body seemed completely detached from one another—he made his way to the kitchen and threw the half-eaten fruit away. His feet seeming to move of their own accord, he returned to the staircase, knowing only that if he didn't please the queen, Grace would suffer.

His chest tightened. Grace. How would he explain this to her? He should send her away. She could be safe. Drawing in a deep breath, he wiped his eyes and paused in front of his daughter's bedroom door. Cora wouldn't let him send Grace away. It would be too suspicious, and it would make her hatter less controllable.

There was no way around it. The Queen of Heart's was going to rise again.

xxx

They were back on the ship. Hook turned to Cora, a heavy frown on his face.

"I would have preferred to stay here, you know."

"Of course I know that." Cora laughed and casually flicked her wrist, snapping her trunk shut. "I didn't make that decision with you in mind."

"I _do_ have my own agenda, Cora—"

"We've already discussed it." Cora's hand was on the back of his neck in an instant, her voice low and dangerous. "I know best, Killian. Truly I do."

Letting out a low growl, Captain Hook clenched his fist. "I need my vengeance, Cora."

"I know, Killian." Slowly, her hand moved down from his neck. It paused at his lower back, and then continued down to a firmer target. "There's a lot of pressure on you right now." She squeezed, and he tensed. "…but I'd be happy to relieve it for you."

Letting out a frustrated groan, Hook moved away from her and began tossing a few things into a leather rucksack. "I don't have _time_ for this, Cora."

"If that's really how you feel." Looking amused, Cora stood next to her trunk and watched the pirate. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose." He breathed out, cheeks slightly flushed. "That man…"

"Jefferson?" Cora asked, idly adjusting her sleeves. "What about him?"

"He looked familiar."

"He was my hatter back in Wonderland." Cora explained. "I doubt you crossed paths, but perhaps you caught a glance of him."

"Perhaps." Killian echoed, looking distracted as he put a hand on Cora's familiar wrist.

They were inside Jefferson's enormous house in the next moment. For only two occupants, it really was ridiculously large. There was plenty of room for a queen and her captain.

Jefferson was waiting for them inside. He was seated on a wooden chair just inside the door, his hands folded tightly in his lap. "You're back."

"That's right." Smiling sweetly, Cora gave her trunk a small nudge toward the man seated in front of her. "Are you going to show me to my room?"

Nodding stiffly, Jefferson rose to his feet and walked to Cora, lifting her trunk with some effort. "Follow me." He whispered, making his way toward the staircase.

"Very well." Cora agreed, walking behind him with Hook in her wake. "Where is your daughter?" She asked as she began to climb the staircase.

"She's sleeping downstairs." Jefferson explained, his voice nearly devoid of emotion. "Her bedroom is upstairs, but I told her that we have surprise guests who don't sleep very well. She believed me, though I don't know why."

"Good." Cora exchanged a quick glance with Hook. "A queen's slumber should never be disturbed." Her attention back on Jefferson, she frowned. "So where _are_ my chambers?"

"Your room is here." Jefferson explained, weakly opening the door to what had formerly been his bedroom. Cora walked in, beginning to look around. "It's the biggest one here."

"Well, it's certainly not fit for a queen…but I'm not exactly in my kingdom. This will have to do." Cora nodded and turned to the two men standing in the door. "Don't just stand there. Give me some privacy."

Suddenly looking afraid, Jefferson nodded and closed the door. Looking much more sure of himself, he turned to Hook. "That's your room there." He gestured to the room across the hall.

"You look different." Hook didn't seem to have heard Jefferson.

"What do you mean?" Jefferson asked, looking confused as het met Hook's gaze. "I don't believe we've met

"We haven't met, but I've seen you." Smirk positively feral, Hook took a wide step forward. Jefferson accommodated by moving backward down the hall, looking considerably more nervous than he had a moment ago. "…do you really not remember? I know that you saw me, too."

"I'm afraid that I don't remember my time in Wonderland very well." Jefferson said curtly, taking another step backwards. Turning to the side, he gripped the doorknob to Hook's room and pulled. "Here."

"You really don't remember." Eyes narrowing slightly, Hook took a step into the room. "I suppose it doesn't matter." He smirked, eyebrows raising slightly. "I suppose all I can do is thank you and your daughter for your hospitality."

Entire demeanor changing in an instant, Jefferson grabbed the front of Hook's shirt, forcing the pirate to face him.

"Listen carefully, because I don't want to repeat myself." He hissed. "If you harm a single hair on her head, I _will_ kill you. She's my everything. Without her, I have _nothing_ left to lose."

"Slow down, Jefferson." Hook laughed, though not loudly enough to bother the queen down the hall. "I'm not going to hurt her. It's Cora that you have worry about."

"Why do you call her that?" Jefferson whispered, a manic glint in his eye.

"That's her name."

"Her name is _Your Majesty_." Jefferson let go of Hook and stepped backwards. "And if you knew what she was capable of, you'd stay on your boat." Turning away, he retreated down the hall.

Hook raised an eyebrow, and then closed the door.

Jaw clenched, Jefferson made his way downstairs to the one bedroom on the first floor. That was where he'd settled Grace down for the night, and it was where they would _both_ be sleeping until Cora was gone…if she ever left.

He wasn't going to leave his daughter unprotected.

"Are you still awake?" He murmured, shutting the door and making his way to the bed.

"Yes." She replied, sitting up slightly and looking at her father. Concern was clear on her face. "Why can't I sleep in my room?"

"One of our guests is a little sensitive. If we slept upstairs, we might bother her. We have to be kind to her."

"I understand." Grace smiled. "But why are you sleeping here, too?"

"I'm letting her sleep in my room." Jefferson explained, unrolling a sleeping bag on the ground next to the bed. "Besides, this will be fun, won't it?"

"It reminds me of before." She said fondly, relaxing on the bed and smiling at her father. "In our old house, when there was only one room. Remember?"

"Yes." Jefferson nodded, a small smile on his face. "Do you ever miss that life, Grace?"

"I missed _you_, Papa." Grace said firmly, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "I don't care where we live."

"I feel the same way." Making himself comfortable, Jefferson relaxed as best he could. It was only five in the morning: not quite late enough to get up, but too early to fall asleep. Grace was a child. She was well able to sleep in.

Jefferson had a harder time staying asleep, but he wanted to avoid Cora and protect Grace as well as he could. That meant staying next to his daughter. He didn't know exactly what Cora had planned, but could only hope that she would spend most of her time away from his house.

If she hurt Grace, he didn't know what he would do. She was his world, and Cora knew it. She was going to use that against him. The pirate might, too.

The pirate who knew him somehow. Frowning up at the ceiling, he closed his eyes. It was entirely possibly that they'd met in Wonderland. He didn't remember most of his time as the Mad Hatter. He wished that he could remember the pirate. Having a complete stranger in his house, the house where his daughter lived, made him uncomfortable.

He'd seemed less patient than Cora. It had seemed like he was more eager to spend time in his ship than in Jefferson's home. Hopefully, that was indeed the case.

Jefferson took a moment to listen, and was relieved to hear that Grace's breathing had evened out. She was asleep.

As much as he wanted to stay awake to better protect Grace, he realized that he needed to sleep as well. Maybe all of this was a dream. Maybe the Queen of Hearts had never come to Storybrooke.

For a split second, he wanted to cry. It hadn't been a dream, or even a nightmare. This was real, and he knew it. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned onto his side so that he was facing the door. At the very least, he could protect his Grace.

xxx

Upstairs. Hook had stripped down to his leggings. The room that the hatter had provided was strange. The fabrics were unfamiliar, and he couldn't find any lamps. Not that it mattered. As soon as possible, he would be returning to his ship.

He had a few hours until then. Approaching Cora had occurred to him, but the queen had seemed like she wanted to be left alone. Killian knew better than to disturb her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he scowled.

At least he was finally alone. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. For the first time in a day, Cora wasn't hovering next to him. Or _behind_ him. A shiver went down his spine, and he remembered in painstaking detail what had happened on his ship.

"_Listen to me, Killian Jones. Let me make myself abundantly clear. This isn't about your pleasure. It's about mine."_

His hand moved between his legs, squeezing hard.

"_Don't you have anything to say to me, Captain?"_

He was still sore. The pain between his legs was unfamiliar. He'd never been penetrated before. Thinking about it made his face flush red. He'd never felt so humiliated, or so…

There wasn't even a word for it. Shaking his head, he stood and pushed his pants down, catching a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror next to the room's wardrobe.

There were purple bruises on his hips were he'd been bent over the railing. One of his nipples was still slightly red. Reaching behind himself, he pressed a hand against his backside where Cora had hit him.

That still hurt, too.

Not wanting to dwell on what Cora had done to him (or maybe he _did_ want to dwell on it, and that was the problem) he got back into bed. The sheets were cool against his skin, but he was unsure whether or not he could sleep without the gentle rocking of his ship underneath him.

Likewise, he found that it was hard to think of women and not remember Cora's magic moving behind him.

Perhaps he'd let her relieve some of his pressure after all.


	5. Chapter 4

__AN: I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, etc! I appreciate all of it! : ) Please do tell me if there's something you'd like to see happen in this fic! I'm open to ideas!

_Wonderland – Pre-curse_

"You're now going to tell me _everything_, and do exactly what I want. Because when you hold a heart, you control it." Cora whispered, her hand deep in Hook's chest. She squeezed, and he cried out.

He had told her everything. From the first time he'd seen her, he'd known there was a possibility that he would betray Regina in favor of her mother. Regina was formidable, true, but she had come from the _mother_ of all evil. She had come from Cora.

Once he'd told Cora what he knew, what Regina wanted, she finally released him. "Come with me."

"Pardon my asking, but why should I follow _you_? You don't know where the hat is. I do."

"Foolish boy." She scoffed, eyes narrowing. "I need to pack."

"You?...fine." Hook sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps he should have expected as much.

"Don't slouch. You're in the presence of a queen." Cora turned and walked away from her throne. Hook could only follow. It was startling just how unimpressive Regina was compared to her mother.

He wondered if Cora would be disappointed if she knew.

"Where are we going?" He asked, eyebrows raised as he looked around. Cora had led him into the palace.

"You'll see." She said simply. "Before I gather my things, I need to thank the man responsible for bringing you here."

"You mean _me_?"

"No, not you." Cora stopped at a bolted door. "Neither you nor my daughter could have come to Wonderland without the hat." She delicately put her hand on the latch and looked back at Hook. "And who do you think made it?"

"A hatter?" He guessed, eager to get out of Wonderland. He wasn't terribly fond of it: there was too much color. Too many of the flowers could sing. It was no place for a pirate.

"Not just any hatter." Cora smiled, and for a moment Hook felt a rare emotion: fear. "A mad one." She pulled the latch aside and opened the door.

There was a laugh, and then a clatter.

"My dear, dear hatter." Cora's voice dripped with something bittersweet, and Hook felt himself shiver. "I have something very important to tell you." She entered the room, and Hook moved to the door.

"Your M-majesty."

The pirate's eyebrows shot up. He'd never seen such a room before. It was enormous, and filled to the brim with hats. There were thousands of them, stacked up to the ceiling. He was surprised that there was room enough to see the man responsible for making them.

His hair was frayed and wild, and his clothing looked patched and worn. He was shaking, his gaze locked on Cora's feet. She approached, and the Mad Hatter fell to his knees, kissing her shoes.

"Y-your majesty." He repeated, his hands planted on the floor.

"I've found it." Her voice was still disturbingly kind. When the hatter didn't respond, she continued. "Your hat."

"M-my…my…" His head jerked up slightly as if to look at her, but he seemed unable to raise his head to meet her gaze. Too frightened.

"That's right."

"I…does that mean…" In an instant, the hatter seemed to change. He stopped shaking. Finally he found the strength to look up, and his eyes were wide.

Even from a distance, Hook could see that he had the gaze of a mad man.

"Can I go home?" He whispered with all the hope of a child. "Please."

"Go home?" Cora laughed. "You've rendered me no services, Jefferson. I asked you to make me a hat that could take me home, and you failed."

"No! Please!" Jefferson—it seemed the hatter had a name—begged. "Please! Please, I'll do anything for you, your majesty! Anything!" Fervently kissing her shoes, his body began to shake again. He was sobbing. "My Grace! My _Grace!_"

"You're never going home." She crooned. "…and there's nothing you can do for me now." She knelt, and cupped his face in a surprisingly gentle gesture, raising his chin. "You've been replaced."

"No." He whimpered, trembling. "No."

"Yes." She pressed her lips to his forehead. She stood, and he grabbed her ankle.

"No!"

The queen's attitude changed instantly. Scowling, she kicked him with her free foot. He cried out, and released her.

"You don't realize how merciful I'm being, hatter. You're no longer of use to me. I should kill you."

He looked up hopefully. "Please." The hatter whispered, blood running down his face from where she'd struck him.

"You're weak." She scoffed, turning and walking back toward Hook.

"No! Please!" He crawled after her, getting to his feet once she reached the door. "You can't do this! You can't!"

"I think you'll find that I can." She met his gaze for a split second before closing the door and bolting it.

"No! No! There's no more time, there's no more time! Let me go! LET ME GO!"

The hatter was pounding at the door. The captain could hear him crying. He'd never seen anything so pathetic.

"_That_ man made the hat?" Hook asked. He knew why she'd let him watch: she'd wanted him to see what she could do to a man who had, Hook assumed, at one point been sane.

"A long time ago. He's not capable of it anymore." Cora explained. "Follow me. I'll gather my things, and then you will take me to my daughter."

"Of course, _Your Majesty_." He laughed, following the Queen of Hearts away from her hatter's chamber.

xxx

_Storybrooke – Present Day_

Explaining to Cora how to use electricity (and the toilet) had been difficult. Cora didn't enjoy being in a position of ignorance, and Jefferson hadn't enjoyed being in a position that could make the queen angry. Thankfully, she was remarkably intelligent and quick to learn.

Once she'd bathed and dressed (if she had looked disheveled after her time on the ship, she certainly didn't now) she was quick to in form Jefferson that she would be away for most of the day.

"You and your daughter aren't to leave your property. You aren't to contact anyone. If someone contacts you, tell them nothing. You aren't to let anyone know that I'm here."

"I understand." His answers were still short, and he was still exceptionally tense when she was near. How could he not be? The abuse that she'd rendered him was hard to forget. Impossible, even.

It was only once Cora had gone that Jefferson realized Hook remained. He'd gone to the kitchen to make Grace breakfast (it was Saturday, and she was still asleep) and there the pirate had been: pillaging his cupboards.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, slapping a box of instant rice from Hook's hand. "You should be with Cora."

"It seems she doesn't trust you enough to leave you alone, not that I can blame her." Hook sneered. "That _temper_." He arched an eyebrow. "I would have gone, but you of _all_ people should know what happens when someone some one says no to," He paused, choosing his words. "_Her Majesty_."

Jefferson visibly flinched. Those words. That name. "You don't know anything about her. What she can do."

"Of course I do. I know what she did to _you_. At least…what you became because of her."

"What do you mean?" Jefferson growled. "Last night you said that we'd met. What did that mean?"

"I was there." Hook stood his ground, his chin up.

"Where?" Jefferson hissed.

"For the queen's departure. I'm assuming you remember when she left you in Wonderland to rot."

"I don't remember you." Jefferson was clearly distressed. Remembering his madness wasn't pleasant, and it certainly wasn't healthy.

"I was, but you were too far gone to see me. You were far too gone to see anyone but her." Hook paused and stared at the Jefferson, their gazes equally piercing. "…perhaps you're on your way to madness again, Hatter. Is that' what's got your feathers so ruffled?"

"I don't want you in my house." Jefferson growled. "I don't want you in my house, and I certainly don't want you around my daughter."

"I'm not going to hurt her." Hook sounded honest enough, but he _was_ a pirate. "…as long as you cooperate."

"That doesn't mean that you have to be near her." Jefferson retorted.

"Don't you think that she'll think it strange if your new guests don't dine with her?" Hook pointed out, raising his hook for emphasis. "I'd think you'd want to keep your happy little home as normal as possible."

Taking a deep breath, Jefferson turned on the coffee maker. He was frustrated. No, it was more than that: he was terrified. Cornered. Trapped. This was exactly the life he'd hoped to escape.

"Remind me, what is this magic?" Hook asked idly, switching the light on and off.

"Electricity." Jefferson explained through gritted teeth. "It's not magic. It's science."

"Never heard of it." Hook finally left the switch alone, and focused on the coffee maker. "What's that?"

"I'm making coffee."

"Coffee?" Hook echoed, eying the machine. "What exactly is it?"

"It's a…" Jefferson took a deep breath. Cora had the advantage of being someone Jefferson feared. Hook, more than anything else, annoyed him. "A hot drink. You can try some if you promise not to make a mess."

"I can't promise you anything, hatter." Hook continued to rummage through the cabinets. "Rather, I don't _have _to. So I won't."

"Stop touching my things!" Jefferson's fists clenched. "If you need something, you can ask me!"

Hook paused, eyes narrowed as he looked over at Jefferson. "I'm hungry."

"So I gathered." Jefferson met Hook's gaze with his head held high. "What would you like to eat?"

For a moment Hook looked surprised, and then he laughed. "Are you offering to cook for me? A common maid?"

"This is my house. I'd rather make you a meal than risk you soiling it." Jefferson growled, snatching a box of instant brownie mix from Killian and shoving it back into the cabinet, closing it tightly. "Sit down. I'll make us both something to eat."

"So I won't be dining alone this fine morning. Fantastic." Laughing, Hook sat down and propped his feet up on the table, watching Jefferson with amusement in his gaze.

"Feet off the table." Jefferson tried not to sound as angry as he felt.

"You're not a very gracious host." Hook observed, making a show of sighing dramatically and taking his feet from the table. "

"I'm not your host, I'm your hostage." Jefferson wasn't going to play games. He knew that he was little better than a prisoner in his own home.

"Cora's hostage, maybe. I'm just along for the ride, so it seems."

"Why _are_ you here?" Jefferson asked as he cracked eggs into a mixing bowl.

"To kill Rumplestiltskin." Hook answered simply, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Good luck." Jefferson scoffed, a laugh rising in his throat.

"I don't _need_ luck." Hook sneered.

"Better men than you have tried." Jefferson said idly as he turned on the burner.

"_Better_ men?" Openly laughing, Hook tilted his head back so that he could get a better look at Jefferson, who was at the stove. "Well in that case, I can see why they failed. Of course no man _better_ than me could slay him. No one _good_ ever could."

"It's nice to know that you have such a high opinion of yourself." Jefferson rolled his eyes and turned off the burner, shoveling a hefty amount of bacon and eggs onto two plates. He set one down at each end of the table, and sat down across from Hook. "So you consider yourself a villain?"

"No, I consider myself a hero." Hook poked at his food, examining it heartily before finally taking a small taste of it, evidently wary of being poisoned. "I'm going to kill the most dangerous and hated man that this world—and others, I suppose—has ever seen. But that doesn't mean that I'm anyone's knight in shining armor."

"No, you certainly are not." Jefferson agreed, standing up again to pour the coffee. He set a mug in front of Hook and made himself comfortable in his own seat again, his stomach growling. He should have eaten earlier, but had been far too concerned with his new houseguests.

Hook eyed the mug with mild suspicion for a few moments before picking it up and taking a cautious sip. His face screwed up for just a moment, but he swallowed.

"Do you like it?" Jefferson asked, unsure what to make of Hook's reaction to the drink.

"It's strange. Bitter." Hook took another sip, savoring it for a moment before swallowing and licking his lips. "But not…unpleasant. Is it common in this world?"

"Yes." Jefferson took a drink from his own mug before continuing to eat his breakfast. "You know, you might as well just go and try to hunt him down. I'm not going to leave. I care too much about my daughter's safety to do that."

"Be that as it may, from what I understand Storybrooke is a very small city." Hook kept eating, apparently satisfied with his breakfast. "Cora has the benefit of being able to move around unseen—magic and all that—but I don't. As much as it pains me to put off my plans for an extra day, even I can understand that laying low is important. I've waited this long, after all. What are a few more hours on top of that?"

"How surprisingly patient." Jefferson looked across the table at the pirate, wondering if there was some other reason why he wasn't in the city. Surely Hook, even without magic, could manage to stay hidden. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about him. He didn't look ill. Perhaps he was sitting somewhat stiffly, but that was no reason not to try and find Mr. Gold. "Mr. Gold." He blurted out a moment later.

"Pardon me?" Hook raised an eyebrow, his fork halfway to his face.

"Mr. Gold. That's what he's called here." Jefferson abruptly turned his head away. "I thought you might like to know."

"Yes." Hook said slowly, looking just the slightest bit confused about why Jefferson was helping him. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

"Grace is going to be up soon." Jefferson added, putting his empty plate in the sink and starting to fill up a clean one with what was left of the bacon and eggs, wanting breakfast to be ready for his daughter. "It's best if she doesn't know what's going on."

"I suppose that ignorance can be bliss." Hook agreed. "Children aren't very good at keeping secrets, anyway."

"Good. As far as she knows, you and Cora are my guests. Nothing more, nothing less." Pausing again, Jefferson let his gaze linger on Hook's elaborate leather coat. "You should know that people don't wear things like that here. If you want to blend in, you should invest in some of this world's clothing."

"Is what you're wearing typical of this world?" Hook asked, finishing his coffee and holding out the mug to Jefferson.

"I…" Jefferson took the mug from Hook so that he could refill it. "Not quite."

"It doesn't matter." Hook took the full mug from Jefferson and indulged himself in a large gulp, not bothered by the high temperature. "I don't care if I stand out. I just need to get into the city and to Rumplestiltskin. When I find him, it won't matter what I'm wearing."

"Fair enough." Jefferson shrugged and refilled his own mug. He was certain that he looked as tired as he felt. It had been a long night, and he hadn't gotten very much sleep. "I—"

"Papa!" What Jefferson had been going to say was cut off when his daughter walked into the room and sat down across from Hook. "You made breakfast!"

"Of course." Jefferson's expression softened and he opened the fridge, getting out a bottle of orange juice and setting it on the table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." Grace looked away from her father and focused on the other man in the room. "Are you one of our guests?"

"Yes I am, lovely." Hook smiled and leaned his elbow on the table. "I'm Killian."

"I'm Grace." She said kindly, her gaze going to Hook's wrist. "Your hand! Are you—" She abruptly looked to her father, clearly unsure whether or not their guest's lack of a second hand was part of polite conversation.

"Am I what?" Hook asked, eyebrows up as he leaned forward.

Jefferson gave a small nod, curious about what was on his daughter's mind.

"Captain Hook." She was staring in something akin to awe, one hand clapped over her mouth as if afraid she'd said something wrong.

"I…yes." Surprised, Hook looked back at Grace, and then over at Jefferson, and then back at Grace again. "But how did you know that?"

"Peter Pan! Haven't you—didn't you know? You're in a book in this world!" Grace gushed. "And a movie, I—" Her brow furrowed. "Have you never read it?"

"I have not." Hook tensed at the words Peter Pan, but met Grace's gaze. "I would _love_ to see it."

"I'll go get it!" Standing up, Grace ran out of the room with her breakfast unfinished.

"I'm a _book_ in this world?" Hook stood and faced Jefferson. "What does that mean?"

"You're _in_ a book." Jefferson corrected Hook. "We all are. In this world, we're the stuff of fairytales. Just stories—and they're not very accurate."

"And what story are you in?" Hook asked, glancing toward where Grace had exited the kitchen.

"Alice in Wonderland." Jefferson explained, leaning back against the counter and adjusting his scarf.

"Wonderland." Hook smirked. "Of course."

"If you don't want Grace to get suspicious, you need to pretend that you were cursed just like everyone else." Jefferson added, his voice low so that his daughter wouldn't hear him. "For twenty-eight years, we all lived like we belonged in this world—except for me, but that's an entirely different story. When it broke, everyone remembered their true selves."

"Interesting." Hook stroked his chin. "And I do see your point, of course. I'll play along for now. It's easier than the alternative, I suppose."

"I have it!" Grace rushed in a moment later, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Here!" She excitedly pressed the book into Hook's hands before sitting back down to finish her breakfast.

"Very nice. Thank you." Hook looked it over, looking torn between amusement and distaste. "I'll look it over while I…unpack." He stood and left the room. Jefferson visibly relaxed, and got out a cup so that he could pour Grace some juice.

"Who's our other guest?" Grace asked excitedly. "Is she from Neverland, too?" She gasped. "Is she Wendy?"

"No." Jefferson ruffled his daughter's hair. "You'll likely meet her soon enough."

"Alright." She briefly smiled up at him before continuing to eat her breakfast.

"Do you have homework?" Jefferson asked, sitting down next to her and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yes." She frowned and sighed, poking at what was left of her eggs. "I'm going to do it after this so I don't have to do it later."

"That's a good idea. Do you need any help?" Jefferson asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. Besides, you have to entertain your guests, don't you?"

Jefferson started to frown, but stopped himself. "I suppose I do. In fact, do you mind if I go make sure that Killian," The name sat strangely on his lips. "is finding everything?"

"I don't mind." She shook her head and walked over to the sink, rinsing off her plate. "I'll do the dishes."

"Thank you." Jefferson smiled and left the kitchen, hurrying up the stairs and knocking on the door to the room Hook was staying in. No answer. He paused, and listened. He could hear movement, but it was coming from his room—the one where Cora was staying.

He pressed his ear to the door and rapped on it a few times. "Killian?" He heard a muffled answer and opened the door, his face screwing up. "_What the hell are you doing_?"


	6. Chapter 5

Warning: there is some dubious consent in this chapter.

_**Jefferson**_

"_What the hell are you doing_?" Jefferson stared at Hook, who was nude down to his waist and zipping up what Jefferson recognized as one of his most expensive pairs of pants.

"I thought I'd try _blending in_." Hook stood and faced Jefferson, cocking an eyebrow. "We're around the same size. What's this fastening called, by the way? It's certainly more efficient than lacing."

"It's a _zipper—_you didn't think that it would be polite to ask me before trying on my clothes?" Jefferson asked, glancing down and seeing dark bruises along Hook's hips and abdomen. Not even the dark hair leading into his trousers could hide that. There was bruising on his chest, too, right around the n—"You should have asked!"

"I'm so sorry." Rolling his eyes, Hook shrugged on one of Jefferson's shirts—dark purple with paisley print—and started to button it. "How do I look?"

"Nothing like a pirate." Jefferson was itching to have those pants back. It was true that they were about the same size, but he knew that with Hook wearing them, they weren't likely to come back intact.

"That's all the better if I'm trying to disguise myself." Hook turned to look in the full-length mirror next to the closet.

"They don't suit you." Jefferson cut in.

"I suppose not." Hook agreed. "Too bright."

"Purple is too bright?" Crossing his arms, Jefferson frowned slightly. He didn't want Hook wearing his clothes, but he also didn't want his wardrobe to be criticized by a _pirate_.

"Have you seen what I usually wear?" Hook asked, laughing softly and unbuttoning the shirt again. "I prefer black."

Jefferson moved forward for an instant, not wanting Hook to wrinkle the shirt. "I'll pick you out something to wear if you stop touching my things."

"You'll pick out my clothes for me?" Hook laughed more openly, and tossed the shirt to Jefferson. "Alright, hatter. Play the part of a doting mother, I'd love to see it."

Rolling his eyes, Jefferson went to his closet and put the shirt back on a hanger where it belonged. "Yes, I will. As long as you _promise_ not to touch anything in this house without my permission."

Hook sighed and crossed his arms. "I suppose I can _try_ to make that promise, Hatter."

"Don't call me that." Jefferson said flatly. "It's Jefferson. I'm not the hatter anymore."

"Yes, but you are _a_ hatter. I saw your collection down the hall." Hook looked over the bed, where Cora had slept the night before, and moved to sit down before thinking better of it.

"I'm just Jefferson now." He pulled a dark blue shirt from his closet and tossed it at Hook's chest.

"Ah, yes. That's a much better color." Hook said approvingly, pulling it on and buttoning it up over his chest.

"You can't wear those pants either." Jefferson pulled a pair of jeans from his dresser and tossed them at Hook. "Here."

"Such strange fabric." Hook pushed down the expensive dress pants he'd been wearing, and Jefferson looked away. Once they were on, he stood. "Comfortable enough." He observed, squatting down to test how easily he could move in them. "A bit loose, though."

Jefferson tossed a belt at him, and Hook stood fully dressed a minute or so later. "Well? How do I look?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Normal." Jefferson answered, closing his closet and his drawers. "Now come on. I don't want Cora finding us here when she gets back."

"Oh my but you _are_ afraid of her." Hook chuckled, following Jefferson out into the hall.

All things considered, the afternoon passed quietly. Jefferson knew that housing the captain and the queen would cause problems sooner than later, but if even one day could pass uneventfully, he was grateful.

It was nine o'clock, and Cora still hadn't returned. Jefferson was more than happy. That meant that Grace would likely be asleep by the time that the Queen of Hearts entered his house once again.

That didn't mean that he wanted to leave Grace unprotected, and so even after putting her to bed, he'd stayed. A soft smile on his face, he lay in bed with an arm around his daughter, letting her read to him.

She was growing up so fast. Too fast. Jefferson didn't want to think about how soon she'd stop being a girl and become a woman. He wasn't certain that he'd ever be ready. They'd already lost so much time. Part of him wished that they could stay like this forever.

Grace was finishing the chapter with there was a soft rap at the door.

"H—Jefferson?" Came the captain's drawl.

"Come in." Jefferson looked up, and the door opened.

"I don't suppose you'd like to join me for a cup of tea before bedtime. I've thought of something else we should discuss." Hook's eyes were slightly narrowed, and Jefferson took that to mean that Killian meant business.

"Of course." He got out of bed and leaned down, kissing the top of Grace's head. "Goodnight, Grace. Sleep tight. Remember, stay downstairs—our other guest doesn't sleep well."

"When will I get to meet her?" Grace asked, a small frown on her lips.

"Soon." Jefferson promised, though he hoped that his daughter would never have to cross paths with Cora.

"Alright. Goodnight, Papa." She relented, putting the book aside and settling down. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Jefferson slipped out of the room and closed the door, walking to the kitchen with Hook before saying anything. He didn't want Grace to hear something she shouldn't. "What is it?"

"I told you. I'd like a cup of tea." Hook raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed.

"Oh really? Is that all?" Jefferson asked, lips drawn into a small scowl.

"Well, no." Jefferson admitted, letting out a sigh and moving to examine his fingernails. "Cora's back."

"She—what?" Face drained of color, Jefferson stared at Hook. "I didn't hear her come in."

"Well she didn't use the _door_." Hook scoffed. "She has _magic_."

"And why are you telling me this?" Jefferson asked, his voice raising slightly in pitch.

"Why do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"She wants to see you."

"Why?"

"How should I know?"

"She would have told you."

"I'm afraid not. Go ask her yourself. She's in your room—or rather, her room, I suppose."

Nodding, Jefferson put a hand to his throat, not needing to feel his scars under his scarf to know that they were there.

"Thank you for telling me." The words came out easily, but it didn't feel as if he'd said them. Knowing that in just a few minutes he was going to have to face the Queen of Hearts was taxing on his emotional state. In fact, Jefferson wasn't certain that he could feel anything. He was too resigned to how powerless he was to feel.

_Alice in Wonderland_ wasn't his story. Not anymore. This was his story now, but at that moment, he didn't have the strength tell it.

_**Killian**_

"Jefferson?" Eyes narrowing, Hook tapped his foot impatiently on the tiled kitchen floor. "Are you coming or not?" He asked, jerking his head toward the doorway. Cora didn't like to be kept waiting.

The hatter wasn't saying anything. He didn't look quite right, but Killian was sure that it was nothing more than Jefferson's fear of Cora. He'd seen Jefferson at the height of his madness. Even if he was frightened, he wasn't in danger of going down _that_ road again.

Not yet, anyway.

"Come on." Rolling his eyes, he grabbed Jefferson's elbow and tugged him toward the door. After a moment's hesitation, the other man started to follow him. "It's strange to have you so quiet. You've been nagging me all day." He commented, glancing back.

Jefferson's head was down, his arms crossed tightly. It seemed to Hook that when Cora was around, Jefferson was a completely different person. He certainly didn't mind. His day had been full of Jefferson telling him to wipe his feet and stop leaving the "refrigerator" open.

Stopping on front of Cora's door, Killian raised his hook and gently rapped it against the door a few times. "Are you in there? I've got your hatter."

"Don't call me hatter." The man behind Hook started to correct him, but stopped in favor of scowling and running a hand through his hair, shifting from one foot to the other.

The door opened to reveal Cora, who was standing with one hand on her hip. She was no longer wearing the blue dress that she'd had on since before coming to Storybrooke, though her hair was still up. It seemed like she, like Hook, had been fitted with clothing more suited to the world that they were in.

That probably meant that she'd found her daughter, and been welcomed with open arms.

"It took you long enough to fetch him." She stepped back slightly, and inclined her head toward the room. "Come in."

Hook turned to leave, and her eyes narrowed.

"You, too, _Captain_."

"What could you possibly need me for?" He replied, frowning and meeting her gaze.

"It's not about _me_ needing _you_, Killian. Now do as I say." Cora opened the door slightly wider.

Killian opened his mouth, and closed it a moment later. Knowing better than to refuse her, he took a few long steps into the room and looked around. It was no different than when he and Jefferson had been there earlier, though there were a few bags next to the bed, presumably Cora's.

"Jefferson."

Hook looked over his shoulder and saw that the hatter hadn't moved beyond the doorframe. Only when Cora said his name did he step through it, his gaze focused near the window, not on Cora.

"Wonderful." Cora closed the door with a touch too delicate for someone capable of being so cruel. "Before we continue, I want to remind you boys that there's a child sleeping downstairs." With both hands on the door, she looked over her shoulder, her back to the two men behind her. "…so keep your voices down."

"Just what are you planning on doing, Cora?" Hook asked. Cora may have gotten the best of him on the ship, but after a day of rest and raiding Jefferson's cabinets, his pride was back in order.

"You weren't quite so chatty the last time we were alone." Cora turned around and leaned back against the door.

"We're not alone." Hook pointed out, gesturing to the man standing next to him. "He's here, too."

"We might as well be alone. He's like a frightened rabbit." Laughing, Cora approached Jefferson and grabbed his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. "Look at me when I'm speaking."

"Yes, your majesty." Jefferson whispered, his tone soft. It seemed like he'd resigned to what was going to happen. Hook was surprised. When Cora was gone, Jefferson had plenty of fight in him.

He had to wonder what exactly had been done to him in Wonderland to make him so weak in the hands of the Queen of Hearts. Surely it had taken more than a few kicks to the face to make him so submissive.

"In fact, I'm not in the mood for your impatience, Killian. Why don't you sit down?" Cora suggested, signaling to a plush chair by the door.

Rolling his eyes, Hook obeyed and sat down, willing enough for the moment to watch what Cora had planned.

"You're both being so well-behaved." A grin on her face, Cora took Jefferson's hand and moved it to her chest. The hatter's eyes widened his shock, and he froze.

In that moment, Hook realized that the lingering thoughts he'd had since entering the room had been confirmed: they were going to have sex. Jefferson and Cora were going to have sex. He and Cora were going to have sex. He and Jefferson were _both_ going to have sex with Cora.

Suddenly much more interested in what was happening, he leaned forward slightly.

"Undress me." Cora whispered, and Jefferson nodded. Not breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned Cora's blazer, and then the white shirt that she wore underneath it. Moving his hands to her shoulders, he pushed both pieces of clothing down her arms until they fell off.

Hook was unfamiliar with the bodice that she wore underneath. Presumably, it was also exclusive to Storybrooke. It was far more revealing than a corset, but he didn't mind. There were straps going over her shoulders, and her breasts were comfortably resting against her chest. From what he could see, it closed in the back, but he couldn't see any laces. Whatever it was, he wanted Cora to take it off.

This strange, new bodice was far less restrictive than what Hook was used to, and he appreciated that. Cora's breasts were no longer pushed up like they'd been in her elaborate blue dress, but he didn't mind at all. Seeing them rest comfortably against this new bodice—almost echoing the way that his own hands could cup them—was entirely new, and very welcome.

Whatever it was that Cora was wearing, Killian definitely approved.

Jefferson hesitated for a moment, perhaps unsure how to continue. A threatening look from Cora shook him from his stupor in the next moment, and he reached behind her. Grasping the top of the zipper, he pulled down. Cora' skirt fell to the floor, and she neatly stepped out of it before kicking it away. It vanished under the bed, but that didn't matter. Killian was watching Cora, not her clothes.

Her shoes joined the pile under the bed in the next moment.

In only the strange bodice, her undergarment—a simple scrap of fabric that Hook dearly wished gone—and stockings, she was still far too dressed for his liking.

Jefferson's hands were raised, and he seemed unsure. Hook didn't blame him. He wouldn't have been able to decide what to take off either. Each possibilities was all too tantalizing.

On second thought, he knew _exactly _what he would do. He'd slip his hook under the front of her bodice, and pull until it snapped. Maybe she'd be surprised—her chest might rise, her nipples hard and alert with nothing to shield them.

Jefferson was going too slowly. A low growl rising in his throat, Hook leaned forward, one of his hands slipping down to squeeze between his legs. The thought of ripping Cora's clothes off wasn't doing anything to curb his arousal.

"My stockings, Jefferson." Cora said softly. Nodding, he began to kneel down, and she raised one of her legs as he did so. Hooking his fingers in the top of the stocking, he looked up and made eye contact with the queen, slowly pulling it off of her. In another minute they were both off

"Enough." Jefferson had been about to move his hands to the black scrap of fabric between her legs when she spoke. Stopping immediately, he stayed on his knees but didn't look away.

"I think it's your turn, don't you?" Laughing she beckoned and he rose to his feet again. "So many _layers_." She casually began undoing the buttons to his vest, and pulled it off of him as quickly as he could. His shirt came next, and he was left looking rather strange in trousers and a scarf.

"Only the weak cover their scars." She whispered, gripping the end of the scarf. Killian focused on the hatter instead of the queen for a moment, and realized that as soon as her hand neared his neck, he'd started to tremble. "…not that I can say I'm surprised." It took her longer than Hook had expected, but within a minute, Jefferson's scarf was off.

Killian did a double take. Looking back, he couldn't remember ever seeing the other man's neck. In Wonderland, he hadn't been focusing on the Mad Hatter's throat. Since coming to Storybrooke, the other man had always been wearing a scarf.

The raised, ugly scar around his throat baffled him. It was almost as if he'd been decapitated. Eyes narrowing, Hook tilted his head to the side. Maybe he had been. It would certainly explain why he was so sensitive about it. Why he tried so hard to hide it.

"Look at you. You haven't changed at all." Cora crooned, undoing Jefferson's trousers. She moved to unzip them, but paused. "Take them off."

His cheeks burning red, Jefferson did as he was told and stepped back so that he could take them off. He was left standing naked except for his _briefs_, a word that Killian remembered from an earlier conversation that they'd had about Storybrooke fashion.

They certainly suited him well enough. Plain and dark, they clung to his hips and snugly cupped his genitals and backside. They looked comfortable enough. Perhaps Hook would invest in a pair. The captain, for his part, wasn't wearing anything under the_ jeans_ (another new word) that Jefferson had lent him.

It was occasionally uncomfortable, but the captain hadn't done enough moving around in them for that to matter.

Eyes moving to Jefferson's front, Hook raised an eyebrow. Even though he was still covered, it was clear to the pirate that the hatter wasn't aroused. If they're positions had been reversed, Hook would have been hard and ready for whatever Cora wanted. Unless, of course—

Killian's eyes widened for a split second, and his hand between his legs stilled. It hadn't occurred to him that Cora might be thinking about using her magic. Clenching involuntarily, he felt his face heat up for a moment.

Was _that_ what she was going to do to Jefferson? It would certainly explain his nervousness. He wondered if she'd done it before. How many times? Had he liked it? How many men had she done it to?

With mingled surprise and the slightest bit of horror, Killian realized that he was hard. The memory of what Cora had done to him—that _feeling_—had been enough to arouse him even more than seeing her undress had.

The power that the Queen of Hearts had over him—over both of them—was unnerving.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" Cora was openly mocking the hatter. Slipping one finger under the band of his briefs, she pulled them taught and peered downwards. For just a moment, Hook found himself craning to see as well, but then stopped.

Seeing another man naked wasn't uncomfortable or unusual for Killian. He had after all until recently captained an entire crew. But Jefferson wasn't who he wanted to look at. It was Cora. Cora was the one that they were _both_ in that room for. Not each other.

Killian had never thought to venture into any other branch sexuality than his passion for the opposite sex. Why would he? Why would anyone?

Killian was broken from his thoughts when he realized three things. Firstly, his hand had crept into his newly unbuttoned jeans. Secondly, both Cora and Jefferson were completely naked.

Thirdly, they were kissing. More accurately, Cora was kissing Jefferson. She'd pushed the other man back onto the bed, and had one hand no his chest and the other tangled in his hair.

Was this how it looked when she kissed him, too?

He licked his lips, almost able to remember the way that her mouth felt on his. Her kisses were always surprisingly aggressive for a woman with so much self-control.

Swallowing hard, Hook started to move his hand, but didn't stand. Although he wanted to tell himself that he could do what he wanted, he knew well enough that although he might contest Cora's judgment in battle, there were no kings in the Queen of Heart's bedchamber. Only her.

Besides, part of him was excited to watch Cora have her way with the hatter.

He let out a groan, unable to keep silent, and Cora paused. She looked up, and raised her eyebrows. Reaching behind her head, she pulled out the pins that had kept her hair in place, and it fell down, cascading past her shoulders and _painfully_ shielding her breasts from view.

As if watching her could have been any more tortuous.

"Well?" She asked, her voice low enough that Hook didn't need to see between her legs to know that she was aroused.

"Well _what_?" He countered, his voice more unsteady than he would have liked.

"Aren't you coming over?"


	7. Chapter 6

"_Closer_."

There was a comfortable warmth against Killian's back. His concern was who exactly it belonged to. He'd felt the bed shift minutes before—it had woken him up—but hadn't bothered to see whether or it was Cora or Jefferson who had left the bed.

He felt long fingernails gently press against his ribs, and realized that it must have been Jefferson. Turning slightly so that he was lying on his back, he propped himself up slightly on his elbow. Jefferson was pulling on his trousers.

Their eyes briefly met, and but Jefferson quickly turned his face away. The other man looked somewhat guilty, but Hook supposed that he understood why. Unable to help himself, he watched the hatter's bruised backside (courtesy of Cora) disappear into his fitted pants.

The night that the three of them had spent together had been one of the most unique of Hook's life—and he'd had quite a few interesting partners in his day. Jefferson slipped out of the room a moment later and Hook, after observing the curve of the other man's back and the tenseness of his shoulders, lay back down.

Cora was sleeping soundly—or at least pretending to—next to him, one hand on his stomach.

Closing his eyes again, Hook tried to commit every detail of the night before to memory. Even now, some of the things that he'd seen and done sent a shiver down his spine and between his legs. Licking his lips, he grinned, remembering how Cora had looked riding Jefferson.

Her breasts, Hook's very favorite part of her, had been freely moving with the rest of her body, her hair loose and surprisingly untamed as she gyrated over her hatter's body. Jefferson, for his part, had been doing very little. Occasionally he'd moan, his hands tangled in the sheets.

Killian, unsure what else to do, had settled for kneeling behind Cora and gripping her hips, his mouth open and hot over the back of her neck and her shoulders, his erection pressed against the small of her back. Seeming to enjoy his attention, Cora had eventually turned around so that her back was to Jefferson's chest and his cock was to her stomach, and hungrily pressed their mouths together.

But now that night was over, and Killian was awake.

"Go make sure that he's not up to something."

Hook shivered, feeling Cora's breath ghost over his neck. "Yes, ma'am." He chuckled, rolling out of bed and stretching. Curiosity winning him over, he glanced into the full-length mirror that Hatter kept in his bedroom. He was glad to see that the bruises on his hips had mostly faded, though the memories of Cora bending him over the railing of his own ship certainly hadn't.

He pulled on his borrowed and discarded jeans, deciding that undergarments could wait, and exited the room. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he saw Cora looking at him impatiently from the bed, one of her breasts exposed. He desperately wanted to get back into bed and climb on top of her, to be inside of her for the first time, but he knew better.

Today was, from what he understood, their first true day of action in Storybrooke. Sex could wait.

Yawning and running his fingers through his hair, he made his way down the stairs. He paused at the bottom of the staircase, hearing voices from the kitchen. Of course. Jefferson had left to cook breakfast for his daughter. Not wanting to make the hatter more irritable than he was already, Killian ducked into the room where he was staying and rifled around until he found a t-shirt.

Somewhat fully clothed, he made his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning Jefferson. Grace." He nodded to each in turn and leaned back against the counter.

"Good morning, Killian!" Grace looked up briefly from her breakfast. It didn't look as if she suspected anything at all. After spending so much time in Nerverland with the Lost Boy, Hook supposed that he'd forgotten just how trusting children could be. It was almost a painful thought, and he pushed it down immediately.

"Good morning, Grace, and how are you today?" Killian asked, flashing a grin and sitting down at the table.

"I'm fine. Are you hungry? Papa's making eggs." She gestured briefly toward her father, who was at the stove. Looking back to the pirate, her brow furrowed slightly. "Why are you wearing Papa's shirt?"

"Now that you mention it, I'm starving. It feels like a ran a marathon last night." He joked, eyes briefly meeting Jefferson's. "…and your father is lending this to me. I didn't pack appropriately."

The hatter abruptly turned away again in order to, Hook was sure, hide his flushed face. A plate was unceremoniously set down in front of him a few moments later. Evidently Jefferson's need to pacify his houseguests and keep his daughter safe trumped any anger that he had.

"What about your other guest?" Grace piped up, her eyes on her father. "Is she hungry?"

"Famished."

All three of them looked toward the doorway, where Cora was standing in perfect form. In the five minutes it had taken Killian to reach the kitchen, she'd made herself perfectly presentable and ready to face the day. He could only suppose that magic had helped.

There was a clatter a moment later. Jefferson had evidently dropped a spatula, but a few moments later he'd picked it up and rinsed it off. It seemed that daylight didn't cure his fear of the Queen of Hearts.

"Good morning, Cora." Hook gave her his most dashing smile and stood to pull out a chair for her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Eventually." She sat down and looked to Jefferson expectantly. A moment later he presented her with breakfast.

"I didn't know you were hungry, or I would have fixed something better." He grunted apologetically, seeming to fear Cora's displeasure even at something as simple as breakfast.

"I'm sure that this will do, Jefferson. Thank you." She smiled sweetly and briefly clasped his hand. If Grace had not been watching curiously, Killian was certain that the hatter would have jerked away from her touch—so unlike the night before.

"You're welcome." He turned his attention to his daughter, immediately calming down at the sight of her. "Do you need anything else, Grace?"

"No." She shook her head. "Thank you." Her curiosity about Cora had, from what Hook had observed, only grown. She turned to the other woman. "I hope that you're enjoying staying here with us. This is the first time that I've seen you."

"I'm so sorry for that." Cora reached over and gave one of Grace's hands a gentle pat, the perfect image of love and kindness. "We had a longer journey, an I've been very tired. I hope that I haven't offended you or your father."

"Of course not!" Grace assured her. "It's nice to have guests. It's usually just the two of us here, and the house is so big…"

"I can only imagine."

Jefferson moved towards Cora with a plate, and she stood to meet him. "Thank you." She smiled and sat down with her breakfast. "This is wonderful, Jefferson. Your daughter is very lucky."

Nodding a bit, Jefferson turned back to the stove and filled up a final plate before sitting down at the table between Grace and Cora.

"Now that you're settled in, what are you and Killian going to do?" Grace asked, nearly finished with her breakfast and clearly interested in learning more about her father's two guests now that they were both present.

"We're going into town to catch up with some old friends." Cora explained, a smirk tugging at her red lips. "And family."

"Family?" Grace echoed. "Did you lose someone because of the curse, too?"

"Grace, don't—" Jefferson started to speak, but Cora cut him off.

"It's perfectly alright." She met Grace's gaze, her expression gentle. "I did lose someone. My daughter. The curse took her away from me for a time, but I'm pleased to say that we recently got in touch again."

"That's just what happened to us!" Grace looked overjoyed at Cora's story. Killian couldn't help but marvel at Cora's acting prowess—she almost looked motherly as she spoke to Grace. "You must be so happy!"

"I am." Cora assured her. "In fact, we should be leaving soon, shouldn't we, Killian?"

"I suppose we should." The pirate agreed, immediately rising to his feet. "Thank you again for breakfast, Jefferson."

"Of course." The hatter replied stiffly, gathering the empty plates from the table.

"Can I come with?" Grace cut in, whisking her own plate to the sink. "I'd love to meet your daughter!"

"Not today." Cora sounded apologetic. "Perhaps tomorrow."

"I understand." Grace only looked a little disappointed. "I suppose that it will be nice to spend the day with Papa."

"I'm sure it would be, but your father needs to take us into town in his carria—car." Cora quickly corrected herself.

"And you have to do your chores." If Jefferson was surprised that Cora wanted him to come with, he didn't show it. "But we'll be back for dinner." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his daughter's hair.

"Alright." Grace agreed, looking slightly put out at the idea of being away from her father. "I'll be waiting."

"I know." Jefferson glanced toward the door. "Are you both nearly ready?"

"Just give me a moment to get properly dressed. I'll meet you outside." Killian was out of the room in a split second, realizing that he hadn't yet put on the undergarments that made jeans bearable.

"Very well. Jefferson and I will be waiting. Come along." Cora took Jefferson's elbow and steered him toward the door. Once they were outside and out of earshot, she turned to him. "Do you know why I'm taking you with us, Hatter?"

"To make sure I don't tell anyone that you're here." Jefferson guessed, shifting uncomfortably in front of his queen.

"Exactly. And if while we're in Storybrooke you do anything to jeopardize our plans, you'll never see your daughter again. You will obey me. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Jefferson growled.

"Sorry about that!" Killian jogged up to the car. "Ready?" He paused, and then looked at the vehicle. "…are we actually taking this?"

"Yes." Cora nodded. "We need to learn all that we can…and I need to fill both of you in on what's going to happen."

"Fair enough." Killian sighed, and they all fell silent as Jefferson silently opened the car doors and got his guests seated comfortably. Five or so minutes later, they were driving down the long road that led from Jefferson's secluded manor into the city of Storybrooke.

"So what exactly _is_ your plan?" Killian asked from the backseat, idly picking under his nails with the tip of his hook.

"We need to convince Regina once and for all that her place is by my side. To do that, we need to give her what she's always wanted."

"And what's that?" Jefferson asked, tightly clutching the steering wheel.

"Destroy the Charmings, of course." Cora replied simply.

"I mean no offense, but if it's taken Regina this long and she hasn't managed to kill Snow White and her husband, what makes you think that you'll be able to do it in a day?" Killian asked, eyebrows raised. "We couldn't even put a dent in her back in your land."

"Not kill them." Cora corrected the pirate. "Destroy them. We're not going to kill the happy couple. We're going to kill their daughter. _Destroy their happiness_. That's what Regina wants."

"Emma?" The two men said nearly in unison. The car veered slightly, and Hook sat up in surprise.

"You can't mean Swan. There's no way that we'd be able to even if we wanted to! She's the town's hero, Cora, you can't think that here of all places it would be easy to—"

"Please put your lust aside, _Captain_. For the good of us all." Rolling her eyes, Cora looked out the window. "Without their champion, the people of Storybrooke will crumble, and my daughter will again be the unchallenged queen."

"With her doting mother at her side." Muttered Jefferson.

"Yes." Cora reached over and gave Jefferson's thigh a warning squeeze.

"Does Regina know what you're planning?" Hook asked, slouching against the car window and watching the trees go by. He much preferred travelling by boat. Or even horse, and hoped that they wouldn't need to ride in the hatter's car again.

"No." Cora kept her hand on Jefferson's thigh. "I know what's best for her, though she may not. She's tried so hard to prove that she's _changed_…whatever that means. Once it's done, she'll realize that it was the right choice."

"From my experience," Jefferson said slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the road. "Your daughter doesn't like it when people do things behind her back."

"Oh, I don't plan on doing anything behind her back." Laughing, Cora gave Jefferson's leg a gentle stroke. "I'm going to kill the girl in front of her."

xxx

As Jefferson brought the car to a stop, he could feel himself teetering dangerously between numbness and madness. If Cora was victorious, he might be able to get back to Grace. They might be able to be happy. _Maybe_.

If Cora lost—and he needed her gone, he needed her to leave or he was going to break down and then he and his daughter could never, _never_ be happy—the people of Storybrooke would surely name him an accomplice. They wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't believe that he was merely a pawn, a prisoner, in the Queen of Hearts' game.

How could they? He'd kidnapped their queen, Snow White, and her daughter the savior. He'd explicitly proven his madness to them, and first impressions were difficult to change. They'd take Grace away from him, and he wouldn't have a choice. He certainly couldn't try and turn against Cora and Hook: he wouldn't stand a chance.

Jefferson could see no choice but to walk headfirst into his own undoing.

"I haven't told you the best part."

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, and Jefferson turned slightly to look at Cora. "What's that?" He managed to say, the car suddenly far too small a space for him to breathe.

"They already know I'm here."

"What?" Killian piped up from the back, leaning forward so that his head was between Cora and Jefferson's. "Why haven't you told me? I could have already killed the crocodile by now!"

"They don't know that _you're_ here, Killian. I never said _that_." Cora rolled her eyes just slightly and pressed a finger to the pirate's lips for a second or two. "They only know that I'm here. That's where you come in, Jefferson: you need to tell Emma Swan where I am."

"What makes you think that she'll believe me?" Jefferson grunted. "I'm not exactly_ popular_ here."

"Simple: you'll say that I have Grace. You have enough madness from Wonderland and love for your daughter left in you to make her believe you."

Unable to believe what was going to happen after they got out of the car and he went to find Emma, Jefferson took a deep breath. "Where should I take her?"

"To the clock-tower. Regina, Killian and I will be waiting there for you. Now go."

Unable to disobey even after years apart, Jefferson got out of the car and began to walk. He didn't look back.

xxx

Arms crossed, Hook turned to look at the gigantic clock-face that he, Regina and Cora were standing behind, hidden from the citizens of Storybrooke. "It's been nearly an hour. Are you sure that your hatter hasn't betrayed you?"

"They'd already be here if that was the case." Cora didn't look impatient, but in the pirate's experience, that didn't mean anything.

"Jefferson's coming?" Regina cut in, looking quickly between her mother and Killian. "You didn't tell me that. Who else? And why? I don't appreciate how little you've told me, mother."

"You'll see." Cora promised, gripping her daughter's hand and smiling. "Just wait." The words had barely left her mouth when muffled voices could be heard at the bottom of the staircase that led up to the clock-tower.

"You're sure that this is where she is?" Came Emma Swan's voice. The sheriff sounded uneasy, and alone apart from one more set of footsteps.

"I'm sure." Jefferson's reply was quiet but intense. "I won't take chances when it comes to my daughter. You should understand that. You have a son."

Regina tensed for a moment, her brow furrowing at the sound of Emma's voice.

"There they are!" Emma's footsteps increased as she glimpsed the group at the top of the stairs. Sword in hand, she stopped. For a split second, she looked ferocious. In the next instant, she faltered. "Where's your daughter?"

No reply.

"Jefferson?" Emma slowly turned to the hatter. "Where's Grace?"


	8. Chapter 7

Note: Hello, everyone! I'd like to thank everyone who is supporting and enjoying this fic. Please review with comments/suggestions if you have them! I have a few quick things to say. Firstly, I know that I probably shouldn't be posting this chapter so soon, but because I left my readers hanging for months I think that you all deserve it. On that note, I'd like to apologize for the quality of this chapter. I promise that the rest of the fic won't be this convoluted. I'm going to hurry up and try and finish this fic before September, because I'll be out of the country for awhile and don't want to abandon it that long. Lastly, after this chapter Madhook can finally begin: so get set, ready, and go! : ) Oh and Ps. If you'd rather follow this story on Archiveofourown, here's the link: /works/672386/chapters/1229829

"Where's Grace?" Emma repeated, her voice hardening to hide her panic. Jefferson had been sure to insist that there wasn't time to find either of her parents. They had to go alone! They had to save Grace! Now, the realm-hopper felt like throwing up.

He'd helped destroy everything.

"Mother, why is Ms. Swan h—" Regina said slowly, unable to finish the thought as Cora reached forward and the savior was pulled up from the ground, grabbing at her throat and gasping. Cora was choking her. "Mother, no!"

"This is what you asked for, Regina. You wanted to destroy Snow White's happiness. They took your son from you, so we'll take their daughter from them."

Cora took a few steps forward and lowered her hand. Emma took in a huge breath, panting hard after being denied air. She only had a moment of relief, however, before Cora plunged her hand into the blonde's chest and _squeezed_.

"Mother, no!" Regina cried out, trying to rush forward.

She was prevented from stopping Cora not by her mother, but by Emma. Moments after Cora grabbed her heart, Emma reached forward herself, and into Cora's chest. As she did so, something seemed to explode between the two women, forcing the other people in the clock-tower back.

Heart racing, Jefferson stared. In all of his years jumping through portals and into new realms, he'd never seen anything quite like this. To add to the chaos, rapid footsteps began to echo up the staircase.

"I can't get it out!" Cora growled, pulling hard on Emma's heart.

"Mom!" Stuck on the other side of the two women, Henry tried desperately to get to Emma, or maybe Regina. Maybe both. Jefferson wasn't entirely sure. "Mom!"

"Henry!" Emma managed to get out, her own hand still in Cora's chest. "GO! Get Mary Margaret! Get help!"

"I won't leave you!"

"GO!" It wasn't Emma, but Regina, who snarled the final command. Seemingly unable to deny an order that both his mothers agreed on, Henry raced down the stairs.

Jefferson actually let out a laugh. So this was to be the end of it all.

"There's…there's nothing here." Emma pulled, but couldn't seem to get her hand out of the woman in front of her. "She doesn't have a heart!"

"Foolish girl!" Cora laughed. "Do you really think I'd put my heart someplace so obvious? No, _my_ heart is somewhere much more important. Somewhere it can do some good. It's exactly where I need it."

"Please stop!" Regina cried out.

Cora didn't look back at her daughter, but her mouth curled down into a frown. "This is what's best for you, Regina!"

"Henry will never love me if you do this! No one will ever love me if you do this!"

"_I_ will love you! And so will your people."

"No! They'll only fear me!" Regina put out her hands against the force-field keeping her from her mother, trying to use her own magic to break it. "Just like before!"

"That doesn't matter! Power is what matters!" Cora gave another hard pull, and Emma let out a sob.

At those words, Regina faltered. "You haven't changed." She whispered, her hands lowering.

"I've only ever wanted what's best for you. That will _never_ change."

"You don't love me. You _still_ don't love me." Regina whimpered, one of her hands creeping up to rest over her own heart. "You just want power."

"Don't be ridicu—" Cora was unable to continue, because she screamed.

Both Killian and Jefferson moved back. Neither of them had ever heard the Queen of Hearts let out a noise like that before. Jefferson looked back to Regina, and his eyes widened.

She had a hand plunged into her own chest, and was sobbing as she _pulled_. A heart lay in her hand, black and beating. "A place where it can do good." She whispered, tears running down her face. "A place where you need it."

"Clever girl!" Cora gave another fruitless tug at Emma's heart. "Now put it back and let me finish this!"

"You never told me. Why didn't you tell me that you put your heart inside me? Why!" Regina demanded, trembling. Jefferson felt like he was witnessing something that he had no right to, but he couldn't look away.

"Because you would have taken it out." Cora said matter-of-factly, her composure regained even with her heart exposed to all. "So I made you forget."

"When!"

"After the stable boy."

Those last few words brought Regina to her knees. "It was you! It was all you! This is why I've never been able to—never been able to…" Her voice trailed off, but Jefferson knew what Regina had wanted to say.

This was why she'd never been able to love.

"You've been poisoning me! Your own daughter!"

"I had no choice! Now help me finish this—help me finish _her_!" Cora demanded, frustration visibly growing again.

"No."

Jefferson had never seen the Evil Queen so vulnerable, or so sure of her own convictions. She looked like the young girl she'd been when they'd first met: the new queen who had only wanted love.

"No?" At that, Cora looked over her shoulder.

"You don't love me. You _can't love me_. No one can, and it's _your fault_." Openly sobbing, Regina began to squeeze.

"No!" It was Cora's turn to protest, but she was still locked in a stalemate with Emma, unable to pull her hand out of the savior's chest no matter how hard she tried.

"I'm sorry, mother." Regina whimpered. "I'm sorry." The blackened heart in her hand crumbled in her hand, and Cora collapsed, leaving Emma free. The savior fell and took a trembling breath and a staggering step.

"Mother!" Regina rushed to Cora's side, pulling the older woman to her chest. "I'm sorry, mother. I'm so sorry."

Her face full of a clarity that Jefferson had never before seen on her face, Cora reached up and pressed a hand to her daughter's cheek.

"You would have been enough." She whispered, and then was still.

The Queen of Hearts was no more.

xxx

By the time Henry returned with his grandparents, there was no fight.

Emma, having not just lost her mother, had had the sense to push Killian to the ground and pin his arms behind his back, not about to let Cora's biggest accomplice run from the scene.

That was how Killian found himself laying uncomfortably on his stomach, barely able to see Jefferson and Regina.

It seemed that Emma had realized Jefferson wasn't a threat rather quickly when instead of bolting, he'd fallen to his knees next to Regina and offered her an embrace. The pirate could only reason that they had some sort of history together. But of course they did: nearly everyone in the Evil Queen's cursed town of Storybrooke had a history with her.

His attention returned to the woman kneeling on his back. "You know, when I have a woman on top of me I pref—"

"Oh, save it!" Emma growled, giving him a sound punch in the back of his head.

"Mom!" At first, Henry rushed toward Emma, but he paused when he saw Regina, broken and shaking as she clutched her dead mother. Suddenly looking very young, and very scared, he walked over to the woman who had raised him and took her from Jefferson's arms. "Mom." He murmured, and Regina let out a cry.

"Emma! What happened!" Snow White rushed over to her daughter.

"I…don't know." Emma said, surveying the scene around her. "But…Regina saved me."

"What?" Bewildered and even more pale than usual, Snow looked to her stepmother. "You don't mean…"

"Yeah. She killed her. She killed Cora to protect me…to protect all of us."

"And what about these two?" Charming asked, looking between Jefferson and the pirate. The hatter still hadn't tried to run.

"We know that Hook was in league with Cora." Emma looked to her father, but kept the pirate firmly held down. "Jefferson led me here. He said that Cora had kidnapped his daughter…"

At that point, Jefferson cut in. "She had…in a sense. She was keeping us prisoner. I couldn't…I couldn't let her hurt my daughter." His voice broke for a moment.

Henry looked up from his mother, looking slightly alarmed. "Is Grace okay?"

Jefferson nodded. "She's at home. She doesn't know the danger she was in—that we all were in." He met Charming's gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"But you still did help her. You could have told Emma the truth and brought all of us here, but you took the coward's way out and helped Cora." Charming's gaze hardened again, and Jefferson looked away. "We need a council." He looked at his wife. "It wouldn't be fair for to decide what to do with them here."

"I agree." Snow nodded, and Emma roughly pulled Killian to his feet.

"Easy there." He teased, pressing back against the savior.

Charming was in front of Killian in two long strides, pulling the pirate up by his collar, their faces inches apart. "That's my daughter you're talking to." He growled.

Killian only laughed, getting a good look at Cora's body for the first stime.

His queen was dead. Gone—and what hope had he of killing the crocodile if the Charmings executed him?

He needed a plan.

xxx

"I call this town meeting to order." Charming stood at the front of city hall, a small group of citizens sitting in front of him, all in the front two rows. Regina was seated next to Charming but said nothing, withdrawn and stiff as she looked forward, not seeming to focus on anything in particular.

Jefferson was watching from the other side of the table. He wasn't shackled, but Killian was. Regina had chained him with magic so that he was all but immobilized, only able to speak and to breathe. She'd trusted Jefferson not to run, perhaps because on some small level she understood what he'd done.

He had, after all, only wanted to protect his child.

"As you already know, we're here to decide what to do with Cora's accomplices." Charming faced his audience, raising a hand as the dwarf Grumpy stood to speak. "We've already decided that death is not an option. It never has been for us, and I can only pray it never will be." He cleared his throat and turned toward the two men in question. "Before we discuss anything, both of you have a chance to speak."

Captain Hook was the first to open his mouth, an eyebrow cocked as he strained against Regina's magic.

"I'm a pirate," He drawled. "and you can't blame me for that. I worked for Cora just like I've done for others in the past."

"And could do in the future." Came a low mutter from within the crowd, a hum of agreement following it from the other seated citizens of Storybrooke.

"…besides, I didn't come here to destroy anyone's happiness." His eyes narrowed, and he searched for one particular face in the crowd. "I came to kill Rumpelstiltskin." He fell silent after that.

"Is that all you have to say?" Charming asked. The pirate nodded. "Then it's your turn, Jefferson."

Clearing his throat, Jefferson crossed his arms and looked past the crowd. "Cora threatened my daughter. I only helped her to protect my family." His lips drew into a thin frown. "…and I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

He knew that it was clear to the people in front of him just how close he was to breaking down. No one had told him if Grace was alright. It was well past dinner. She'd be worrying. No one would tell him if she was safe.

"I was a coward, I'll admit it." He continued, still unable to look any of the room's other occupants in the eye. "The Queen of Hearts—" He faltered. "Cora, as you know her…I've met her before." He didn't dare continue, unsure if he could keep going if he let _those_ memories in. "I couldn't say no to her. I was too afraid." On his last few words, he brought hand up to shield his eyes, not wanting the tears that had escaped his eyes to be seen by others. "I didn't have a choice."

Once Jefferson too had fallen silent, Charming again addressed the crowd. "Well?"

A passionate chorus that had been building throughout the two men's speeches broke out as soon as Charming granted them a fraction of permission.

"Damn your moral code—kill the pirate!"

"He was only protecting his daughter!"

"But who's going to protect_ us_? Kill them both!"

"Make him walk his own plank!"

The crowd grew grew louder and louder, until a new voice cut in: one that every person in the council chamber had taken orders from.

"Enough!" It was Regina, and her magic blazed as she stood and faced the crowd. "As if any of you have any right to speak! It wasn't your queen who died, and it wasn't your mother! It was mine! My mother is dead—because of me." She was crying freely, and Jefferson felt guilt trickle down his spine. "I'm the one who sacrificed! I'm the one who has to live with what I've done!"

Charming, along with the now silent crowd, was clearly surprised. "Did you…have a suggestion, Regina?" He said gently, as if even one wrong word could set the mayor off.

Well, Jefferson thought to himself, one word was probably all it would take.

"Yes." Regina drew a deep breath and whipped a handkerchief from the pocket of her blazer, quickly wiping her eyes. "Because you are too weak to kill, I have another solution."

"I know both of these men better than any of you. I've seen both of them for what they really are." Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Killian and Jefferson. "…but you don't need to take my word for it, as they were both completely honest."

"Hook _is_ a pirate. He'd do anything for the right price…and Jefferson _is_ a coward, but he does love his daughter. He'd do anything to keep her safe, and stop us from taking her away from him."

At the mere suggestion of losing Grace, Jefferson flinched, but contained himself. If he had an outburst here of all places, he knew that he had no chance of keeping custody of Grace.

"Think about what happened: Jefferson hates Hook. He has to. Hook," She left her mother out of it, not ready to breach that subject just yet. "imprisoned him in his own home. Threatened his daughter. I," Her voice quieted. "know better than most just what a parent is capable of when someone tries to take away a child."

On the other side of Regina, Emma Swan looked down at her lap.

"If anyone is to keep the pirate caged, it should be him."

"Excuse me?" Both men spoke at once, and Jefferson took a small step toward Regina.

"What do you mean?" He said, his voice low. Jefferson wanted to, if possible, put the last few day behind him: he never wanted to see Killian again.

"I don't trust the pirate at all, but I do trust Jefferson to do whatever's best for he and his daughter." Regina continued. "…it's a simple spell."

The whole room seemed to tense: they all knew that magic came with a price.

"To put it into words that you can all understand, it would essentially make Jefferson the pirate's keeper. If Killian tries to run—gets a certain distance from Jefferson—he dies." Her lips curled up into a smile.

Jefferson shook his head and spoke, not caring if his words were out of turn.

"No! I won't have that man in my home! And I won't risk my own life with one of your god dam—"

"_Your_ life wouldn't be in danger. You would know that if you let me finish!" Regina snapped, and for a moment the hatter was reminded of a younger, equally stubborn but more temperamental queen. "So let me continue."

Jefferson relented and stepped back into place next to Killian.

"Like I said, it's a simple spell. If you'd like to add a clause making sure that absolutely no harm comes to your daughter without Hook risking death, then so be it."

Jefferson was only satisfied because he knew that he didn't have a choice.

"What about me?" The pirate piped up, still immobilized. "Don't I get a say?"

"No." Charming cut in, and turned to meet Regina's gaze. "How soon can you cast the spell?"

"Immediately."


	9. Chapter 8

In the next few minutes, City Hall gradually emptied until only Regina, Charming, Emma, Jefferson and Killian remained. Other than idly pulling against the magical restraints that still held him in place, the pirate said nothing. He knew better than to speak when Regina was still on the edge of anger. He would wait.

Even if they did enact the spell, he wasn't terribly worried. If Jefferson was at all close to Regina, (again, he reminded himself that everyone in Storybrooke had some sort of history with the Evil Queen) he probably hated her. Probably hated Rumpelstiltskin, too.

Most people did.

That was why even if Regina went through with the spell before Killian could find a way out, it wouldn't matter: Jefferson would be easy enough to work with. As long as he was kind to Grace, and he had no intentions to harm the child unless she tried to stand between himself and his crocodile, he didn't foresee any problems.

He'd come this far to get what he wanted: he wasn't about to turn back.

"So what do you need, Regina?" Charming's voice broke Killian's thoughts, and he began to once more pay attention.

"Take them to my house. I'll be there shortly." Regina instructed, standing and brushing off her jacket. "Wait for me there."

"Alright." Charming agreed, starting to lead the two men out of the council chamber.

"Wait." Jefferson spoke up, looking to Emma. "Can someone call Grace and tell her that I'm alright? Please? I told her that I'd be home by now."

Emma exchanged a quick look with her father, and then nodded. "Yeah. Sure. You can call her from Regina's if you want."

"Thank you." The hatter visibly relaxed, and behind his bored expression, Killian laughed. He'd briefly thought that Jefferson's time in Storybrooke might have made him stronger, but it was clear after the time they'd spent together that he was just as weak as when he was little more than a slave to the Queen of Hearts.

Cora.

His chest briefly tightened, and he frowned. It was hard—impossibly, almost—to accept that Cora was gone. She'd been a part of his life, of his schemes, for long enough that he hadn't been ready to see her go. And the sex.

_The sex_.

Inwardly, he groaned. It wasn't wise to dwell on something so shallow, but he couldn't deny that he'd miss it. He'd never even gotten to be inside her…_but she'd been in him_. The thought made him uncomfortable, and he again focused on what was happening.

Still immobilized, he'd been hoisted between Charming and Jefferson (who had still barely objected to their sentence, the fool) and was being half-carried and half-dragged out of City Hall toward Charming's truck.

"Can you take Jefferson if I take Hook?" Charming asked his daughter as he and the hatter lifted Killian into the truck.

"Sure." Emma agreed, quickly looking Jefferson up and down before cracking a smile. "As long as he doesn't lead me back to his house and force me into hat-making, I think we'll be alright."

"I've apologized for that." Jefferson muttered, slipping into the sheriff's yellow bug.

"Yeah, and you're lucky that we forgave you." Rolling her eyes, Emma got into the driver's seat and closed the door.

Not bothering to buckle Killian in, Charming slid into his own seat and started up the truck. "For the record, you deserve worse than this." He didn't look at the pirate as he began to drive. "Remember that."

Grunting to show that he'd heard, Killian stared ahead at the road in front of them.

In what seemed like no time at all, Jefferson and Charming were carrying the pirate into Regina's home and unceremoniously depositing him in what he was sure was a very expensive armchair. Regina arrived less than ten minutes later, clutching a small bottle that was no doubt from the crocodile himself.

Killian recoiled at the idea of having Rumplestiltskin's magic used on him, his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Jefferson was in the other room talking to his daughter on the phone, but he returned after only a few minutes, looking guilty. He'd surely have to tell Grace the truth the next time they met. It served him right for hiding the truth from her.

"I'm sorry, but I have to say it again." The hatter looked between Emma, Regina, and Charming. "I don't want that man living in my house."

"And I'm sorry to say it again, but you brought this on yourself when you helped Cora." Emma crossed her arms.

"And he's not going to hurt your daughter." Regina added more softly, looking down her nose at Hook. "…I'll make sure of that."

"Besides, just because you have to live together doesn't mean that you have to get along." Charming shrugged. "…I wouldn't, if someone did to me what he and Cora did to you."

At every mention of her mother, Regina seemed to tense. Perhaps it was because of that that everyone quieted down and sat.

Everyone except Killian, who met Regina's gaze.

"No chance that you'll listen to _my_ objections?"

"No." Regina said flatly, leaning over the coffee table and starting to write on a withered piece of parchment. If he tried hard enough, Hook could almost see down her shirt, but it was hardly worth it.

It wasn't Regina's chest that he wanted to see—to touch—it was Cora's. Again, he cursed himself for being so sentimental. There was no time for that. Not when he had a crocodile to kill.

"You'll all be happy to know that I'm writing this contact myself, not Gold." Regina added. "Which means that none of us are going to get caught in any loopholes."

"Be that as it may, I'd like to read it over before anyone signs it if it's all the same to you." Charming leaned back against the couch where he and Emma were sitting.

"Fine." Regina gave a small nod. "…to be clear, I'm going to go over the details of the spell again, so that both of you—" She gave Jefferson and Hook a small gesture. "are aware."

"Jefferson. As punishment for assisting Killian Jones and…and my mother in the attempted murder of Emma Swan," She swallowed, as if lingering on the thought of Cora. Hook could relate. "you are to, essentially, become the pirate's keeper. You will watch over him and make sure that no one is hurt because of him."

"And he won't hurt my daughter?" Jefferson interjected.

"He won't hurt your daughter." Regina nodded briefly. "Or you, for that matter. It wouldn't do for him to kill you and then run off…" She scribbled down something else on the parchment.

"I'd just like to remind all of you that if you'd just let me kill Rumpelstiltskin, you wouldn't have to worry about _any_ of this." Hook growled. "That's the only reason I'm here."

"You were willing enough to help Cora try to kill_ me_!" Emma pointed out, scowling at the pirate.

"It was nothing _personal_, love." Killian would have leaned forward if he'd been able to, but he was unfortunately still bound by Regina's magic. "I was only helping Cora to get what I wanted."

"Exactly. We don't need you helping anyone else to get what you want." Charming frowned.

"And you aren't worried about that happening with me?" Jefferson asked, probably trying to find a way to get out of the spell.

"No. You have what you want. You only wanted your daughter, right?" Emma asked. "…besides, you don't seem so crazy any more, now that the curse is broken." Her voice softened slightly. "…I can't say that I'm not still pissed about what you did, but you were right. It would have driven anyone crazy."

Inclining his head slightly, Jefferson fell silent.

"Well, I've finished writing up the contract." Regina said after a few moments of silence, moving over so that Charming could read it.

"…looks good." Looking up, Charming locked gazes with Hook. "Now what?"

"I'll be right back." Regina said sweetly, standing and going to the kitchen.

"I want you all to know that I am very much against this." Killian muttered, wishing that he could move and at least make himself comfortable. He had to praise his captors for going to such lengths to make sure that he wouldn't' run.

It showed that they could learn.

Bad for him, but bravo for the Ms. Mills and the Charmings.

When Regina returned, she was carrying two glasses that were half-full with what Killian could only assume was wine.

"I can only assume that you could both use a drink after everything that's happened." She said almost coyly, pulling the stopper out of the bottle that she had most definitely gotten from the crocodile. She poured it out between the two glasses and the parchment, each getting about a third of the shimmering liquid.

Jefferson willingly took the glass that he was handed. "I drink it?" He asked, receiving a nod in return. Briefly looking at Hook, he downed it in one go, coughing a few times once he'd swallowed.

"I forgot to tell you. It burns." Regina's voice was dry as she approached Hook with the other glass. She pressed it to his lips, her own drawn into a thin frown. "Drink."

Letting out a low growl, Hook paused and then parted his lips. He knew when to give in. This would only be a minor hiccup. He'd waited this long to get to Rumpelstiltskin. What would another few extra days or weeks be on top of that?

"Good boy." Regina whispered, waiting until the pirate had drained every last drop to lower the glass. The parchment briefly glowed blue, and Killian felt a pulse of energy. Nothing seemed to happen after that.

"Is that it?" He asked critically, looking between the other people in the room.

"That's it." Regina waved her hand, and Killian was finally able to move again.

"In City Hall, you talked about this spell like you'd done it before. Have you?" Emma asked, leaning back against the couch and looking at Regina curiously.

"Me? No. But it was fairly common at one point." A very dangerous smile was on Regina's mouth. "Before your time."

"Common for what?" Jefferson asked flatly, evidently not amused. Killian leaned forward and let his elbows rest on his knees, equally focused on Regina. "Prison sentences?"

"No. Men would often use it on their wives to make sure they didn't stray. Of course, it fell out of fashion—"

"Excuse me?" Jefferson abruptly stood, and took a few quick steps over to the mayor. "I did not agree to—"

"I am NOT his wife!" Killian cut in, anger welling up in his gut.

"Calm. Down." Regina actually laughed, reaching out and pressing a hand against Jefferson's chest to keep him at arm's length. "I said that husbands used it on their brides, not that this is a wedding." She raised an eyebrow and looked to Killian. "Though perhaps that would have been a more fitting punishment."

"I overreacted." Obviously embarrassed, Jefferson retreated to where he'd been sitting before. "Sorry."

The pirate grunted in agreement. Cracking his neck, he looked at Jefferson. "So how far away can I get from the hatter?"

"My name is Jefferson." The man in question said firmly.

"You'll know when you've gone too far." Regina said simply, picking both glasses back up and going back toward the kitchen. She paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. "Now get out of my house. All of you."

Jefferson didn't hesitate. "Come on." He muttered to Killian, who stood and stretched.

"I'll see you ladies later." He promised, not bothering to acknowledge Charming as he exited the mayor's house with his new roommate. "Where's your carriage?"

"My car is back in town. We're walking. I don't want to spend another car ride with any of them."

"We're at least agreed on that." Killian looked around, his hands in the pockets of the jeans that Jefferson had lent him. He missed his coat, but Storybrooke fashion was at least comfortable.

"…I really hate this." Jefferson added.

"Me, too." Laughing, Killian glanced up at the night sky. "…but there's nothing to do but lay back and see what happens."

"I'm glad that you're taking it so seriously." Jefferson sighed and adjusted the scarf around his neck. "It should only take us ten minutes or so to get to the car."

"That's fine. I don't mind walking after being hung up by Regina's spell for so long."

Jefferson mumbled in agreement and fell silent.

Not wanting to push his luck, the pirate didn't say anything else and they reached the car without any problems.

"Don't forget to buckle your seatbelt." Jefferson finally spoke once they were both in the car.

"Of course. Safety first." Killian chuckled, snapping the buckle into place.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Jefferson began the somewhat long drive back to his home, and his daughter.

Nearly the whole journey passed in silence, until Killian spoke as they pulled into the driveway.

"I meant what I said." He looked at his new roommate, sincere. "I'm not going to hurt your daughter."

"I know." Jefferson met the other man's gaze, equally serious. "…because if you so much as tried, it would be the last thing you ever did."

"So it seems that we're agreed."

"So it does." Jefferson agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car, closing the door perhaps more loudly than he needed to. Killian was quick to follow. "You can have my room again tonight. We'll figure out where you're going to stay tomorrow."

"If that's what you want." Killian was unable to suppress a yawn at the idea of going to bed. "Aren't you hungry?"

Jefferson stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "No." He replied quietly.

"Of course not. You feel too guilty to be hungry." Killian chuckled and crossed his arms. "Lovely. It just means that there's more for me."

"Just get yourself fed and get out of my way." Looking as emotionally exhausted as he probably felt, Jefferson let himself in. "I need to go talk to my daughter. Do what you want. Within reason." He added the last two words as an afterthought.

"Fine." Killian agreed, closing the door behind him and watching Jefferson walk away from him. Once he heard the door to Grace's bedroom shut, he made his way to the kitchen and not really caring what he found to eat as long as it was fast and filling. Not bothering to undress, he made his way to Jefferson's bedroom and got into bed.

It was only after burying his face in the pillows that he realized the bed smelled like Cora's perfume.


End file.
